


The House At Worlds End (And Other Stories).

by Pale Rider (Boothros)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: AU, M/M, Older Lads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:35:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boothros/pseuds/Pale%20Rider
Summary: A short while ago, I tried my hand at writing again and it seemed to be well received. It was a miserable little story but inspired in me something happier, perhaps something which might hang around for a while. I'll post the original work for those that haven't seen it as it really needs to be read before the series and then hopefully I'll post new excerpts as they arise. Thanks to all that still read prosfic. We may still be few and far between, but between us, may we keep the legend alive.





	1. A Quiet Drink/The Great Search

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bodiecuddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bodiecuddle/gifts), [Sandra Reavill](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sandra+Reavill).



The House At Worlds End (And Other Stories).

A Quiet Drink

I was only wanting a quiet drink.

I could have walked into any one of the hundreds of pubs around Old Compton Street, but chose to stroll into the first that wasn’t pumping out blood thumping music. The rainbow stickers displayed in the window were immaterial, I certainly wasn’t on the pull as anyone who tried to catch my eye would soon realise.

It had been one hell of a week, too much travel, too much paperwork and without the merest hint of excitement. I was jaded to the point of tiredness and bored to the point of depression. The barman soon huffily gave up his unsubtle attempts at conversation and I mentally waved away any guilt I felt about that. I might well be sad and lonely but that was a situation of my own making and nobody had ever said that getting older would be a bed of roses. After all, I’d only really wanted a quiet drink.

I studied my pint with a practiced eye. It looked perfectly clear and certainly seemed to be selling well enough, but I could just detect the slightest hint of pipe cleaner and for my next round elected something less mainstream. I didn’t mention my disappointment to the barman as he didn’t strike me as one who would much care. The next beer was better. It promised none of the pizazz of the first, but was tasty enough to stick with until I returned to my digs. I settled down on my stool prepared to face yet another dull evening until it was time to sleep.

The bar was staring to fill and suddenly my senses prickled. Though I had no particular feeling of foreboding, I looked up sharply and then I saw him. Sat at the bar opposite he was looking towards the doors (as I should have been doing), years of training obviously still making their mark. To see me he would have to turn his head and for a few precious moments, my eyes were free to drink their fill.

He was the same yet  _so_  different. The looks were still there, if anything, maturity had only deepened his beauty. The curls remained, albeit with the slightest touches of silver, though they somehow lacked the bounce of vitality I remembered. He looked thinner than ever though I could tell there was still decent muscle structure beneath his clothes. His eyes were still watchful though disinterested. He was no more out on the pull than I was, obviously just a man who simply wanted a quiet drink.

I continued to stare, long suppressed emotions fighting their way upwards, when he turned, as I knew he would and looked straight at me. I saw his reactions and felt them along with him. His eyes widened and he gasped slightly before swallowing hard. He blinked a few times and I saw him brighten with tears. I knew he’d flee even before he threw down his five pound note and hastily turned. I hurriedly leapt from my stool, ungraciously backing into a group of party seekers approaching the bar. I knew the mere seconds spent on my apologies would be more than enough time for him to slip away and by the time I got through the throng congealing by the doors, he was gone. I looked up and down the road knowing I wouldn’t spot him. I’d looked for him many times before always coming to the same conclusion. If Ray Doyle my irascible ex-partner didn’t want to be found, I certainly wasn’t going to find him.

I had three working days left in central London before I was free to enjoy a week’s leave. Nevertheless, instead of settling my bill, I extended my stay indefinitely. During my working hours, I haunted bars like a spectre, looking in corners I would rarely would have ventured before. Every evening I frequented the same pub in Old Compton Street choosing a quiet booth rather than a bar stool. Every time the door swung, my heart pounded and my head swam but I was always disappointed. I wouldn’t question the bar staff until forced, I knew how these places worked and that even a hefty tip wouldn’t stop them warning my quarry about the moody stranger who sat hidden with a quiet drink every night before leaving the pub alone.

At night the memories surfaced. Shame had kept them compressed, but I’d been miserable for so long that it was time to face them head on. It was no surprise that Ray Doyle hated me, he had every reason to do so. We’d shared six perfect months before fears and insecurities had forced my shaking hand and I’d purposely ruined everything that I’d ever really wanted.

On the weekend before my scheduled return to work, my persistence finally paid off. I saw the man I craved furtively approach the bar but this time, he didn’t much look like he was planning to stay. Rather than approaching him directly, I slipped through the side door intent on blocking his path as he exited the pub. I timed it perfectly almost scaring him witless. It took every ounce of my courage to speak before he called for the security detail.

“Hello. Any chance I could buy you a drink? You know, just a quiet drink?”

“Why would you even ask me that? What are you doing here, Bodie, I don’t want you here and I certainly don’t want your sodding drink!”

“Come on, Ray, it can’t hurt surely, just one drink?”

“I can afford to buy my own drinks thanks very much, I don’t need your charity!”

“I never said you did!”

“Look what’s the bloody point, eh? We’re not partners, we’re not even friends, we’re ... we’re not really anything anymore, Bodie so why don’t you just bugger off?”

“Because if I do then then you’ll never know what I wanted and it’ll eat away at you same as it’s doing me.”

It was a risk. For all I knew, Ray Doyle couldn’t give a fig what I wanted but he thought hard before finally grabbing me by the arm.

“Okay, but not here. One drink and then you fuck right off back to where you came from.”

He headed us briskly down a few alleys before landing us in a tiny bar which had ‘shithole’ written all over it. He ordered and paid for two pints clearly forgetting my invitation and I winced when I tasted the beer.

“Right say whatever you’ve got to say and then clear off, Bodie.”

“Okay, okay, look the first thing I want to say is how sorry I am …”

“Oh cut the crap, Bodie I don’t wanna hear it! What is it you’re after, cos anything I know is gonna cost you and Cowley, I don’t come as cheap as I used to!”

“Eh? What is this ‘it’ you think I’m after?”

“You tell me, you’re the one who’s been stalking me!”

“Well I wouldn’t call it  _stalking_ exactly, I saw you in that pub and wanted to talk to you but you’d scarpered.”

“Yeah and you’ve been in there every bloody night since haven’t you, you persistent bastard. Just tell me what it is you wanna know and then I’ll tell you the price.”

“I just wanted to see you, Ray. To talk to you, maybe try and explain? Excuse myself if that’s the way you see it, but I’m not asking anything from you, I’ve certainly no right to do that.”

“Too bloody right you haven’t and you can tell Cowley that too!”

“Ray, what’s this obsession with Cowley, he never sent me here!”

“Oh I wonder? Er, let me see. We finally got it together and were happy as Larry till Cowley found out and the next minute you found yourself sleeping your way through half the women in London. You even made sure I found you fucking some tart in the bed we shared, you utter bastard! Ring any bells, Bodie the way you broke my heart before flinging it away?”

I could feel the anger radiating off him and couldn’t blame him for a minute as everything he'd said was true. Cowley’s outrage at my involvement with Ray had certainly spurned my initial actions but it was my own cowardice which had allowed them to continue.

“Ray it wasn’t the old man’s fault, not really. Sure he put the wind up me at first, after all he said if we continued he’d see that your career would be finished.”

“Oh nothing about  _your_  career then. No there wouldn’t be would there, Heaven help that anything bad would befall his precious Bodie after all!”

“It wasn’t like that, Ray, he knew that threatening me would make no difference, you were always my Achilles' heel and he knew it. There was no  _way_  I could let him blacken your good name and everything you’d worked for, I just didn’t have the right!”

“Oh and you couldn’t just tell me that? Let me make up me own mind? You were such a Neanderthal that you couldn’t even sit down with a quiet drink and talk things through with me, Bodie? No it was obviously far more fun to have me catch you  _in flagrante_. Yep that certainly got the message across loud and clear, mate thanks!”

“Look, Ray I know it was stupid, but I just thought it would be easier for you to hate me. It didn’t occur to me for a minute you’d actually leave the squad over it!”

“How could I have stayed? I trusted you with my life, Bodie and you pissed all over that trust. I was never asking for happy ever afters. If you’d wanted out you only had to say, but you promised me the world before you cheated, lied and destroyed everything. I left with only slightly less respect for you than I had for Cowley!”

Somehow I’d swallowed the awful beer and tipped my glass at him silently offering another. His glare told me nothing and as I ordered us a Guinness apiece I quietly prayed he’d stay put. Even this dump surely couldn’t get Guinness wrong and I was warmed as a tiny smile escaped him when he took his first sip.

“You’re right, Ray I  _did_  react to Cowley’s warnings and threats. I  _did_  try and make more of a man of myself in his eyes as he’d suggested and I  _did_  destroy the best part of myself in the process. In the end though, I just had to be sure. All my adult life I’ve answered to someone else, some commanding officer who didn’t give a shit about me as a person but simply as a machine drafted in to do his dirty work. I’d never thought with my heart before and you were forcing me to do it. I had to make sure I was worthy of you and by the time I did, you’d gone.”

“Well you didn’t expect me to hang around did you? I certainly wasn’t gonna stay where I wasn’t wanted anymore. Cowley looked at me like I was dirt most of the time and you just looked like the cat that got the cream boasting about some new bird every week.”

“And I was hating myself just that little bit more every day, Ray, but I  _had_  to be sure. I’d never really been in love before. I’d thought I had but anything that had gone on before paled into insignificance compared to you.”

“Love? Don’t give me that, Bodie, you don’t treat someone you love in that way, you just don’t!”

“But I did love you! I loved you so bloody much it scared me and I knew that everything had to change if we were gonna make a go of it. I didn’t really want any of those women, I just wanted you to have a get out clause so you could keep your job if nothing else.”

“Nice speech, Bodie but I bet it never hurt your career any did it, dumping me? You could think with your heart as much as you liked, but obviously not being Cowley’s blue eyed boy anymore would have scuppered all that. What should I call you now then, ‘Alpha 2’ perhaps? What does he want from me anyway?”

“Ray I don’t work for Cowley anymore, I left CI5 about six weeks after you did! I work for a brewery now.”

I could see I’d surprised him as he momentarily shut up. The pint had slipped down so easily that I took advantage of his incomprehension to swiftly buy us more. He was still thinking furiously to himself as I returned with the foaming glasses.

“You, Bodie? You’re telling me  _you’re_  working on Civie Street? You actually left CI5?”

“It’s true, Ray. Nothing was the same after you left. I couldn’t settle to anything or anyone else. I didn’t blame Cowley in a way. He came from an age when two men together were unthinkable but I  _did_  resent him for not being able to turn a blind eye. I quit, walked and have been looking for you ever since.”

“So how come you’re working for a brewery? What are you, chief beer taster or something?”

It was the first thing he’d said without a hint of hostility and I jumped at the advantage.

“No I’m just a rep. We sell beer to places all over the country and I have to traipse around and make sure that it’s kept right and it’s selling well and present reports and make recommendations and it’s all completely boring and tedious and I can’t wait to be out of it but it keeps the wolf from the door.”

“How the hell did you get into that? I can’t think of anyone more ill-suited to being a travelling salesman than you!”

“Well when I left the squad I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. I got an invite up to Wales from an old Army mate. He’d ploughed his pension into a pub there but was thinking of complete retirement and was after a buyer. There was no way I wanted it, it was in the arse end of beyond and the few clientele it did have were just too …  _Welsh_. It planted a seed however. I thought running a pub might be something to aim for, something I might be good at. So I booked myself on a bar keepers course and started to subscribe to brewery news sheets on the lookout for going concerns. This job came up and I got it, unbelievably. I soon found out why nobody really wants to do it as it’s too much driving in a sensible car, too much diplomacy and you don’t even get given a gun. What about you, what did you do when you left the squad, Ray?”

“Well certainly nothing special. I didn’t really have much clue so I just signed on with as many agencies as I could find. It was a worry suddenly not having a regular income even if CI5  _did_ pay us far less than we were worth. I laboured for ages and still do. The work over at Canary Wharf is plentiful even though it kills me half the time. I was singled out just after I’d started by this Paddy who wanted a crew to lay roads in Southern Ireland. It was fantastic money and I got to catch up with a few ancient relatives over there but it wasn’t for me. I was knackered after six months and was forced to come back to London. I’ve got a few quid behind me now, the fleapit I call home doesn’t cost much so I carry a few bricks during the day and pull a few pints at night. When you saw me tonight, I was just picking up my wages.”

Somehow talking about our miserable existences had broken the ice. I didn’t envy Ray’s life a single iota. Labouring was tough work for a younger man than him and certainly explained his wiry frame. I on the other hand, had piled on the pounds with endless hours of sedentary driving and fast meals. Somehow we had totally let each other go at the very time when we should have pulled closer together. He was the only anchor I'd ever really known and I’d let him drift and skate over shifting sands for far too long. I needed to firmly attach myself back to him if I was worthy of any sort of decent future. I certainly didn’t deserve him however much I’d always wanted him, but I wasn’t going to let him go again without a fight.

“I’ve got digs about twenty minutes away, Ray. Come back with me. Please? I’ve got a decent bottle of brandy there which I don’t want to drink alone.”

His eyes turned flinty again, but alcohol had softly worked its magic. I had a last minute doubt as I raised myself from the grimy chair but he followed me easily enough. We drank the Courvoisier making inconsequential conversation until we were laughing, then crying, then looking and finally kissing. As we bedded down, his slender frame fitted against me like the matching piece from a jigsaw. We were both far too tired for anything more though the evening had never been about sex, but me finding my only anchor once again and reattaching myself firmly to it.

As we drifted, I spoke into his beautifully silvering hair.

“This dream pub I’m after getting, Ray? Well I’ll need experienced bar staff and you’re certainly that now. To be honest a partner would be even better if you fancied it?”

Though I’d thought him asleep, he murmured a quiet reply.

“As long as you can promise that I’ll never get dish maids hands and we always get to share a quiet drink at the end of the day, I suppose I could let you persuade me.”

I smiled into the darkness, knowing my future was set and my anchor finally moored. I’d made my mistakes and would probably be loudly reminded of them forever which was a small price to pay in the scheme of things. Tomorrow we’d draw plans and hatch ideas. At the end of the day, we’d share a quiet drink. Together. Finally counting my blessings, I blissfully fell into sleep.

*****

The House At Worlds End (And Other Stories).

The Great Search

I swept from the gravelled drive of The Revellers Rest, cursing the Saabs luxurious handling. Three and a half years I’d put up with that bloody Morris Ital. It’s fate had finally been sealed when the front bumper came loose on the A34. Dragging it for half a mile had caused the sparks which had ignited the fuel lines. I’d only just managed to leap clear before the whole lot became a fire ball and later a feature on the BBC news. It was typical that my firm would replace it with something desirable the month before I left. Though they had never begged me to stay, they were sure making it hard to go.

Working full time had never really gone hand in hand with a serious property search. Ray had been happy enough to continue his hod carrying. If nothing else, it gave him plenty to moan about and the cash in hand work he managed to mysteriously glean from it had allowed us to move from his fleapit of a bedsit into a rented flat big enough to house a cooker. I’d long ago decided that pensions were for dreamers. If we were to get anything like the sort of licenced premises we desired, I was going to have to have to bite the bullet and cash in my chips.  Through sheer grit, determination and our most practised dirty looks, we had the vaguest of promises for a business mortgage and if we learned to live out of tins for the next few years, would hopefully be able to buy rather than manage, the pub of our dreams. I’d seen the tired looks of desperation too many times from the minions I’d met who were tied to breweries and decided it wasn’t for us. Now all I needed to magically do was find the very place that we both liked, could afford and could see our futures in. Nothing a small miracle couldn’t help with after all…

~~~oOo~~~

I proudly placed my shovel in the porch with a small pat. It was a sad state of affairs when a man had to take his shovel home with him, but the petty thieving that was becoming more and more prevalent on site was starting to take the piss. The Turks got blamed first who in turn blamed the Russians, who naturally blamed the Poles. My quiet word to the governor would get half of them sent back, but we needed the numbers and a few of them were just about half useful.

I looked at the clock, gauging what time Bodie might make it home. He’d been in Billericay of all places so no excuses for me not to force some sort of decent food down his neck. He’d happily live out of a packet would Bodie, the total Neanderthal. I sometimes wondered how he’d even survived before I’d been providing his diet. I knew he was prematurely mourning the loss of the Saab, so I wouldn’t push matters, he could have his steak and kidney pie as long he accepted it with a baked potato and a decent portion of cabbage.

We had a long weekend looming, visiting a myriad of obscure places. Gradually working our way from North to South meant the journeys were gradually becoming shorter though I suspected that Bodie was missing Scotland. In truth the pubs up there _had_ been far cheaper than anything south of the border but I just couldn’t stick the place. It was only just September, but the ‘rugged beauty’ that Bodie continued to wax lyrical about felt like frozen tundra to me and I now boasted a fetching collection of thermal underwear as part of my wardrobe. Coupled with the fact that I couldn’t understand a word anyone was talking about, we swiftly turned our back on all areas Caledonian.

Having spent six months tarmacking just outside Dublin, I was knowledgeable of the fact Ireland constantly rained and for some reason, Bodie seemed adverse to Wales, so we restricted our search solely to England. We had three destinations across the Great North to consider, Coniston, Redcar and Greater Manchester. All were affordable with a little bit of imagination and the advertising for the Lake District property actually seemed rather nice. I was soon learning however that agent descriptions could be as misleading as a campaigning politician and it would take an awful lot to impress me. As the clock ticked, the life force was threatening to be boiled out of my cabbage. I was almost considering starting to curse Bodie as I heard the key in the door.

~~~oOo~~~

The evening had been most acceptable. Ray had served homemade pie only slightly marred by the accompaniment of green vegetables and after, we’d enjoyed a decent cognac supplied by a worried landlord intent on passing his cellar inspection. The night had passed in sweaty fashion, with Ray effortlessly reminding me why I loved him so much. We’d finally fallen asleep with him faintly muttering something about a shovel. Though I was slightly muggy headed, the day dawned fair and the promise of a good run to the North West seemed entirely possible.

I was allowed personal use of the Saab within reason and as it regularly clocked up hundreds of miles per week for the firm, I didn’t see an extra thousand particularly unreasonable. Besides, I was leaving and didn’t much care. Soon we’d sadly be reduced to the dubious delights of Ray’s ex-Telecom van. A week in the Morris had been preferably to an hour in Ray’s jalopy which smelt strongly of lime and was dustier than The Tower of London. New transport would be high on the shopping list when we finally found our new home, as would many other things we took for granted whilst gainfully employed by others.

A slight argument ensued before Stafford. Ray had insisted on packed lunches for us which I’d chomped my way through before leaving the outskirts of London and my stomach was telling me that a late breakfast was vastly overdue. As we sat on opposite sides of the Formica table, he glared at me.

“You’re ripe for a heart attack, Bodie, you _do_ know that, don’t you?”

“You’re the keeper of my heart, Raymond dearest, so I’m afraid I’d have to blame you if anything bad happened to it.”

“Oh for God’s sake, I don’t know why I bother sometimes, I really don’t!”

“No neither do I when you ordered the same breakfast that I did.”

He obviously hadn’t thought that one completely through and looked relieved when the food turned up putting paid to our squabbles.

~~~oOo~~~

Breakfast at Stafford Services had been most welcome. I nagged Bodie slightly about his waistline but he obviously wasn’t going to bite and as he’d ravaged me to distraction me so beautifully the night before, I could just about excuse his need for the extra calories.

We finally arrived at our digs a little after four. The whole place was picture perfect. The twin room we were shown by our twittering landlady looked like something from Anne of Green Gables. She constantly apologised for the fact that we had to share the space and I saw Bodie swallow a smile on more than one occasion. I eyed the beds speculatively. Though I had no real intention of shagging our way through our travels and upsetting old ladies as a result, on nights we got together, we stayed together. If Bodie found sharing a single birth too tight, he’d simply have to lose some weight.

We were shown around the old couple’s well-kept garden and I basked in the autumn sun. There were beautiful views from every direction, the majesty of Coniston Water outshining them all. If ‘The Lamb Shank’ boasted anything of this natural wonder, I was already sold.

We gobbled our lamb casserole supper like a pair of escaped convicts. The old dears seemed thrilled with Bodie, someone who actually _could_ eat them out of house and home and I had high hopes that our evening meal boded well for the following day. As long as The Lamb Shank had running water I was sure we’d buy it. I slept like a baby, happy that our future was secured.

~~~oOo~~~

Ray’s first reaction to The Lamb Shank almost broke my heart. There were none of the ‘breath-taking views’ that the brochure had suggested. The only outlook this place boasted was a row of dilapidated farm cottages most of which looked vacant. The rear seemed to consist of a patch of wasteland which doubled as the local tip. Broken bottles, burnt out oil drums, rusting bikes, pallets and paint tins all nestled for position in an ugly sculpture of scrap surrounded by waist high weeds and filmy looking puddles. I could feel the waves of emotion coming from Ray and sought to placate him before he burst into tears.

“Perhaps it’ll be better inside?”

“Well it can’t get much fucking worse, can it?”

“Come on, Ray, we’ve come all this way, let’s just stay for a pint and take a butchers at the place, eh? You never know, it might just be crying out for a bit of a tidy up.”

He didn’t look convinced but we made our way through the entrance and when we got in the place, our feet stuck to the floor.

“Bodie, what’s that thing on the wall?”

“Um, I think it’s a sheep’s head.”

“Oh, God, I think I’m gonna be sick!”

“Reserve that thought until you’ve tasted the beer.”

“Um, can you make mine a half please?”

“Sure, if I can find anyone to serve it.”

There were three others in the establishment, an old timer sat at the far end of the bar and two pasty youths who were attempting to play pool on an ancient table with a huge rip down its middle. We watched them for a few moments marvelling at the techniques they had to employ to negotiate the curling baize. It looked more like a game of table Crazy Golf than pool and I was mentally calculating the thousands it might cost to put the place in any sort of order.

“Is that bloke alright do you think, Bodie? He looks, well he kind of looks a bit … dead.”

I raised my eyes to the old timer and could only concur that he didn’t look to be in the prime of health.

“I think perhaps he’s just asleep, Ray. Maybe he’s just ... waiting for the Bingo to start or something.”

“Well don’t you think we ought to check? I mean we’ve done first aid and stuff, we can’t just sit here while there might be a dead bloke over there can we?”

“Well do you fancy touching him, Doctor Doyle cos I certainly don’t!”

To our relief, the old man suddenly burst out in a phlegmy cough which seemed to be the required signal to hail the landlord whose eyes widened when he saw us. I once again blessed our decision to always arrive at a property unannounced. It saved many an undiplomatic blush, innkeepers having no idea we were actually casing their joints as potential buyers. It also enabled us to see places in the raw rather than hastily glossed over versions, though it would take a bucketful of gloss to ever make this place shine. We still loved our cover story of tropical fish salesmen, though it had rarely came into play. If Ray suddenly bemoaned an attack of gastroenteritis, it probably wouldn’t be that far from the truth …

~~~oOo~~~

I’d stick this one out for Bodie. He’d driven all the way here without a murmur after all and it wasn’t _his_ fault that the brochure was spouting complete rubbish. There was no way I could stay here though, however cheap it might be. There was the most hideously dead animal attached to the wall and the clientele didn’t seem to be faring much better. The whole place gave me the creeps and I couldn’t wait to be out of it.

I briefly thought back to the sports bar I’d dragged Bodie to on the night that he’d found me. I’d deliberately chosen the worst place I could think of simply to annoy him and certainly hadn’t been planning on buying the place. The Lamb Shank came a close second and I silently hoped that Bodie might suddenly develop a stomach bug in order for us to avoid actually having to partake of a drink. My hopes were quashed as the landlord finally appeared.

“What can I get for you two gents?”

~~~oOo~~~

The landlord wasn’t an attractive man having more warts than teeth and a stomach as wide as a small car. He wore a grease spattered apron which suggested he cooked, but I suddenly had no appetite. Determined to complete the task in hand though my every instinct was to telling me to run, I faintly asked him for two halves of bitter.

“Sorry, Sir, bitter’s off. Waiting on a delivery see?”

“Um lager then?”

“Sorry, lager's on the same lorry as the bitter. I’ve only got bottles or cans in until Monday.”

“So you’re effectively a pub with no beer?”

The landlord bristled slightly and I felt Ray gently swat my behind

“Like I said, _Sir_ , there’s only bottles or cans until Monday, take yer choice.”

I could buy bottled beers anywhere in the country and they’d tell me nothing of how the man kept his barrels and pipes. Ray defused the situation by politely asking for two Cokes and we took the flat offerings to the furthest table out of earshot.

“It could be a goer, Ray, he either doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing or he’s simply given up.”

“Not exactly jumping though is it, Bodie? We wanted a going concern not a lost cause. The whole place needs a complete refurb and we’ve no idea how much custom it’s likely to get.”

“We could come back later tonight, see if it livens up a bit?”

“I can’t see them all clamouring to get into a pub with no beer can you? Besides do you really fancy doing business with Quasimodo over there?”

“Not in the least if I’m honest. There’s an awful lot of miles in front of us, shall we make a move?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Come on let’s get out of this Godforsaken place.”

We left the rest of the syrupy cola, bid the glaring landlord farewell and left The Lamb Shank without looking back.

~~~oOo~~~

Through all its industrial bleakness, the North East was still hauntingly beautiful. 'The Seagull' pub, a Goliath nod to nineteen thirties art deco, still stood proudly facing the Tees as if its very presence could surely alter the facts of time.

The building was sturdy and the watercolour view stunning, but I knew we couldn’t make our lives here. The landlord was a pleasant chap who saw through our cover stories immediately. Scoured of his savings, he had no wish to sell but no choice but leave and my heart went out to a man who’d simply tried to provide beer and bonhomie to those who could no longer afford it. More and more stories of unemployment and underfed children reached my ears and I knew that this place would only bring us untold debt and endless tears. I looked at Bodie and by unspoken agreement we decided to leave this one alone. Placed anywhere else, this pub would be a goldmine, but there was a sadness here that we had never been part of and we felt like intruders. 

With a regretful bow to the hardworking men who had lost their livelihoods, we regretfully turned our backs forever on the North East. Stoic but uninspired, we headed for Manchester.

~~~oOo~~~

'The Dandy Lion’ was much the same in appearance as many of the other bars on Manchester’s Canal Street. The difference was noticed on entering, The smell of leather dressing easily out stank the tang of beer and the sight of a guy dressed as half American cop and half French stripper gave me room to pause. I had no qualms about running a gay bar but my eagle eye had spied Ray’s arse being grabbed at least twice. I was already jealous of people that I hadn’t even met and knew that I would have to run this place with a rod of iron if I could ever be happy in it. Ray seemed more comfortable than me and I quirked my eyebrow at him in query.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before serving behind some bars in London, Bodie.”

“Maybe not, but is it a place you’d want to live in?”

“We could change it.”

“Look around you, Ray. Do they look as though they want it changed?”

“I see your point, someone’s obviously found the right formula for the place, it looks like they’re coining it in!”

I suddenly swallowed hard as a hand cupped my left buttock. I turned to complain and promptly looked at a blonde Adonis with aquamarine eyes. His leather strapped attire didn’t leave much to the imagination and I stared for a moment ever so slightly stunned. He smiled and spoke almost coyly.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“He doesn’t want one thanks, we were just off _weren’t_ we Bodie?”

“Er, yes like the man said, we were just off … apparently …”

Adonis looked heartbroken but Ray was dragging me by the arm obviously not in the mood to be argued with. When we got back onto the street, the bone numbing music behind us, we looked at each other before collapsing into giggles.

“I’m sorry, Bodie but I couldn’t put up with that every night, I’d have to keep you on a bloody lead!”

“If that’s the case, big boy, I’d have to keep you in a cage! Your arse is gonna be bruised black and blue tomorrow from all the pinching it got!”

~~~oOo~~~

We fell about in hysterics once again on the grimy pavement. Neither of us had anything against gay bars, nor what anyone else chose to get up to in them, but running a hard-core leather bar as first time landlords was perhaps a stretch too far.

The laughter had done us good and I treated Bodie to a quiet meal with good wine to finish off the evening. I could tell Bodie was withdrawing. It was mere days before he left the brewery and we were still no nearer finding our dream place. Though he was providing the bulk share of cash for our venture, I knew it was a matter of pride for Bodie to be earning. I could command shedloads on site, but the work was still casual, and if I didn’t turn up, someone else simply got paid instead. I knew however, that our precious savings had to be guarded and the sooner we found somewhere to sink our hearts into, the better. We still had plenty of places to consider. We had planned trips to The Midlands, The West Country and The Yorkshire Dales, but somehow I feared that once he wasn’t pulling in a wage, Bodie would view these more expensive properties with less enthusiasm. As we strove for sleep in the last of our Northern digs, I cuddled him extra tightly.

~~~oOo~~~

We were pretty downcast after our fruitless weekend. I was all too aware of entering my final few days of employment with no immediate future on the horizon. I had of course, given the brewery an end date so we might travel unrestricted, but the sad fact was we now had precious few affordable premises to travel to. We’d set our hearts on a free house, somewhere where we could sell, cook and do whatever we liked without beholding ourselves to anyone else, but decent places were rarer than hens teeth and commanded more money than we could hope to amass. The North had been the last real chance of us living our dream. The trip that had seemed so promising at first, was now just a sour memory and we were no nearer finding our future home than we were before we’d left.

During the week, I cheekily used my downtime to survey the brightest and best that Oxfordshire and The Cotswolds had to offer. From glossy catalogues, we already knew the available places intimately, but they were even better in the flesh. However tempting they might be though, we simply couldn’t afford to buy them. Viewing them was like rubbing salt into an open wound. Any one of the three establishments I visited as dear old Mr Guppy would have given us a healthy income as well as an idyllic life. I was torturing myself and had he known, Ray would have gone spare. The sad truth was, though we had a good few pounds saved, we didn’t have quite enough of them.

My final two days were keeping me local. ‘Armitage’s’ was an age old Inn whose inspections ran so smoothly I treated them more as a social treat. Our newest customers, 'The Bellisimo Bar', seemed like a competent lot and on the off chance, I called on them on my way home. They were more than happy to talk sales at a moment’s notice and by four o’ clock, I had crossed the last of my jobs for the brewery from the list. Celebrating the fact I had gained a day didn’t quite make up for the imminent loss of my lovely car.

Ray sensed my mood as he walked through the door and immediately took charge. Within the hour we’d showered, dined and relaxed over Merlot. Ray finally spent the remainder of the night sexily trying to put the smile back onto my face. The following morning he left for work with a kiss and a smile and I struggled unsuccessfully, to sleep in. By eight o’ clock I was listless and bored and wondering how to fill the hours before returning the car and leaving my job.

I tidied the flat and dusted the surfaces before looking through the week’s papers and junk mail. ‘Booze News’ was a free periodical I subscribed to though it rarely had much of interest within its pages. Having little else to do, I flicked through and was about to launch it towards the bin when I spotted the ad on the back cover.

‘For Sale by Auction! Stunning 17th Century Freehold Pub in beautiful rural Hampshire. Min. guide price, £50 000. Auction date, September 20th, earliest viewings highly recommended …’

I scanned the pretty pictures which displayed the very future I craved, seeing lovely images of a beautiful old building mingled with happy shots of customers past, the last of which took my very breath away. There, sat on a barstool raising his glass towards the camera, was surely my beautiful Ray, toothily grinning at some long forgotten joke.

I raced to the kitchen and slammed on the strip lights. On closer inspection, it wasn’t Ray Doyle of course, never could have been. Though the reveller bared the slightest resemblance, the fluorescents revealed quite a different man and I cursed my aging eyesight. Something however, was alerting my senses. Something I should know, something of the utmost importance. I stared around the kitchen urgently seeking inspiration and finally my eyes fell on the Playboy calendar that Ray had taped to the fridge. September the twentieth. My last day of employment and the very day a London auctioneer was trying to sell a stunning seventeenth century freehold pub in beautiful rural Hampshire. I suddenly knew the destination of my final trip in the Saab …

Shamus O’ Leary was as dodgy as a box of foxes but quick to recognise a hard worker and treated Ray very well. If he was surprised by my sudden, desperate entrance, he didn’t show it, but sadly didn’t have any good news to impart.

“Sorry, Mr, Bodie but I sent him off for the day, so I did. Best negotiator I’ve got is Raymond, we need those bricks now but not at the prices Jacobs want to charge. I told him to get the best deal he could before five o' clock and then be on his way home.”

It could take ages to drive to all the builders’ merchants that I knew Ray frequented. If I were to chase him, I knew I’d miss the auction and for some unknown reason I felt I needed to be there. Perhaps the pub might go unsold and we might be able to view it for ourselves. Perhaps seeing a real live auction might open our options for future opportunities. Either way I _had_ to see what happened to the dear little place for myself. I knew I’d never sleep happily again until I did.

I’d only ever been to car auctions before. This was a property auction and the vast number of bidders seemed to be gentlemen of Asian and West Indian persuasion. At first, nobody seemed interested in my little pub, no one raising a hand until the skilful auctioneer dropped it to twenty thousand. All of a sudden I saw eyes lighting up though mine felt like crying. The bidding was fast and furious and my heart started to race. The bidding slowed at sixty thousand and the auctioneer craftily invited offers in thousand pound increments. I cursed the man who’d offered sixty five thousand pounds with all of my being. He was a miserable looking chap who had no business running such a pretty looking place as the one that was offered. Without a thought in my head, I stealthily raised my hand and my voice.

“Seventy thousand pounds! I bid, seventy thousand pounds!”

~~~oOo~~~

I was in such a hurry to get home, I almost managed to push the van into breaking the speed limit. Had I been on site all day, rather than chasing errant materials, I would simply have walked the moment the Governor told me about Bodie’s panicked visit. Granted, Bodie tended to be more of a worrier nowadays, but he’d never _ever_ felt the need to screech onto my site as if the hounds of hell were after him and now I truly feared whatever it was that I didn’t know.

The early evening traffic was being particularly snarky giving me far too much time to imagine all sorts. I prayed that Bodie was in good health, that he hadn’t been suddenly diagnosed with some dreadful malady ready to viciously strike him down whilst still in his prime. I couldn’t really picture it however. That would be the sort of news quietly shared over a comforting brandy, not something that he would have risked a speeding ticket for.

I thought to the scant few left of my own family. Bodie would certainly have been upset should anything have happened to them but it was a mystery how he could have heard anything before I did. Perhaps someone had reappeared from his murky past, someone intent on revenge or retribution and Bodie had needed my help. Oh God help us if he had gone off on his own! It suddenly occurred to me that if he had, I might never see him again. I might never get to hear him curse at bad drivers or laugh at the telly or sing in the shower ever again. I would never get the chance to love him ever _ever_ again.

My heart was beating like a trip hammer by the time I drew into our road. It was a relief to see his car parked up and a Godsend to see the porch light on. Dead people didn’t tend to need porch lights to be on. I waited a moment as I listened to the ticking of the dying engine, allowing my startled breathing to regain its composure. Until someone told me different, I could only assume that Bodie was alive and well. Seeing him twitch the curtain gave me further confirmation of his continued existence and I allowed myself to relax a little. Nothing could be that bad as long as he remained on this mortal coil. I was cautious as I came in, just in case he was being held at gun point, but as I entered the lounge although his face was pinched, it was quite obvious he was alone. His distress was plain to see however and I was by his side in an instant.

“Oh God, Ray, you’re home at last!"

“I’m sorry, Sunshine I only got back to the yard a while ago so I didn’t even know that anything was wrong. What’s happened, Bodie, come on you can tell me, it’s nothing we can’t face together.”

“Oh Ray I’ve been so stupid!”

“Why, mate what did you do?”

“I hardly even know how to tell you, you’re gonna be so mad at me I’d be surprised if you don’t kick me out on my ear!”

“Bodie love, what did you do? Was it something illegal? Are the Police likely to turn up anytime soon?”

“Oh, God they wouldn’t would they? No of course they wouldn’t, not yet anyway. Oh Christ, Ray, what have I done?”

Far from placating, Bodie I was actually unsettling him more so I hushed my voice and spoke more slowly.

“If you don’t tell me, Bodie, I can’t help you so just tell me what it is that’s upsetting you so much and we’ll see what we can do, about it, eh?”

“Promise you won’t hate me, Ray. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“What was it you didn’t mean to do, Bodie, come on you can tell me. Did someone die, Bodie? Come on I really need to know now sweetheart, what is it you’re so scared of, what did you do?”

“I … I bought a pub.”

“You, bought a pub? One of your regulars was it? Well there’s nothing wrong with that, I _told_ you to grab anything that came up if you thought it was worth it, why would I mind about that, Bodie, it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“It wasn’t one of my regulars, Ray, I didn’t find it through work.”

“No, well were did it come from then? Have you been keeping it as a surprise for me or something? Is it really that nice?”

“I saw it advertised in the back of Booze News this morning. It was for sale by auction. I raced down to the yard to fetch you but your governor said you were out pricing up bricks. I really didn’t mean to buy it like that, I feel so stupid now, but it _spoke_ to me, Ray and I couldn’t bear not knowing what had happened to it. I just went to watch, Ray I swear I did.”

“Right, hang on a minute, just so I make sure I get all this right. You haven’t actually seen it yet?”

“Only in the photos.”

“Okay, so you see some pictures of a place in the back of Booze News and it ‘spoke to you’ so you naturally race off to an auction where you accidentally end up buying it even though you’ve never set foot in it before. I mean what happened, Bodie did you bid by mistake or something, did you scratch your nose at just the wrong moment, I mean how, _how_ can you accidentally buy a pub? And more importantly, how much did you bloody well pay for it?”

“Seventy. Seventy thousand, Ray.”

“Okay, right _do_ excuse me as I’m struggling _just_ a little to stay calm right now, but you bought a pub, sight unseen, from an auction for the very top end of our budget. How long have we got to pay?”

“Twelve days.”

“Right, so we have to somehow get our hands on seventy thousand smackers in twelve days. What happens if we can’t?”

“I dunno, they sue us I guess.”

“Terrific. So if we don’t get hold of the money we haven’t even got yet for a pub that you haven’t even seen yet, then we lose everything.”

“You’re angry aren’t you?”

“Um, let me see. I just spent the last hour driving home at breakneck speed worrying myself to death that you might be getting beaten or murdered or have some dreadful disease, but then I find out that actually, _actually_ , Bodie the crisis stems from the fact you are the single most ridiculously stupid moron I’ve ever clapped eyes on! But I’m not angry, not really, I’m about a million miles from angry. I’m bloody light years away from angry. I, Bodie, am sodding stupefied! How long have we been doing this now, eh? Months that’s how long! How many places have we seen that have all looked ‘nice’ in the photos but turned out to be complete dives? How many times have we gone over and over our budget to decide what we really can afford?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I said I’d never let you down again and that’s just what I’ve done.”

I was never immune to Bodie’s little boy lost routine for too long. The tiny voice and the downcast eyes just pulled at my heartstrings too much, so much so on this occasion that I almost let him off early. The relief that he wasn’t hurt or dead or dying was also starting to settle into my conscious and though he may have been monumentally stupid, I knew that I had everything to be thankful for. I wasn’t quite done with him however, though screaming at him was starting to hurt my voice box.

“So where _is_ this magical talking pub?”

“It’s somewhere near Fordingbridge.”

“Which is where, exactly?”

“Um, down in the New Forest. In Hampshire.”

“And does it have a name?”

“The House at Worlds End.”

“Oh good Grief! If that’s not a portent of doom, I don’t know what is!”

“Look, Ray, you don’t have to come in with me on this, I know this wasn’t the way we were gonna do things and I don’t expect you to have to lose all your money. I’ll sort something out somehow, don’t worry.”

“Oh no you don’t! We’re in this together as you know full well. I’m not baling on the partnership now and never will be so let’s just hope you haven’t bought us a complete dump eh?”

He still looked full of self-pity and I finally cracked.

“Oh come on, Bodie, it can’t be _that_ bad. What’s done is done, so now we’ve just gotta make the best of it. P’raps we better start by you showing me those pictures, eh?”

~~~oOo~~~

I watched Rays face intently as he studied the pictures and was thrilled when he let out a tiny smile. Suddenly he leapt from the chair and barrelled towards the kitchen as if his feet were on fire.

“Ray what the hell’s up, it’s not that bad is it?”

“N … no it’s just this bloke, behind the bar. God, Bodie for a split second there I could have sworn it was you in that photo! Must been going daft in me old age ...”

“You said that, Sunshine, not me.”

“Shut up, Bodie it was my eyes playing tricks that’s all. It's obviously not you when you see it in the light, but just for a second there …”

I allowed myself my own quiet little smile. It seemed The House at Worlds End was working its magic on my partner too …

“Okay let’s get a few things straight. How much do you think’s in your high interest account?”

“About 30k but there’s a fee applicable to get the money out early.”

“Well there just _would_ be wouldn’t there. I’ve got about twenty in my savings account, so we’ll need another twenty from the mortgage company.”

“I already rang them. They said as long as the pub passes a surveyors report, they could in theory, release thirty grand to us in time.”

“Thirty, do we really need that much?”

“Well we’ll need some new wheels and a little extra for emergencies couldn’t hurt. I’m just worried they’ll drag their heels over getting a surveyor and we won’t get the money in time.”

“All you’ve got to worry about is whether it passes the survey or not. If they try and piss us about O’Leary can put me onto a surveyor that should pass muster with them. Now, talking of cars, when’s yours gotta be back?”

“Oh my God, about half an hour ago, I’d forgotten all about the damn thing! Any chance you could follow me over there so I can get a lift back?”

“Course and we’ll call by the site on the way back to break the news O’leary that he’ll be looking for a new foreman tomorrow.”

“Will he be okay do you think?”

“Yeah it’s not like the news will be unexpected. After we’ve done there, I’ve got a few bar shifts to cancel then I suggest we call by an off licence and get ourselves a modest bottle of Champagne. After all, Bodie my lovely, tomorrow we get to see our new home!”

~~~oOo~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throughout my writing of 'The Great Search' I continuously heard a song in my head, 'Shipbuilding' by Elvis Costello. It was with this sombre mood, I pictured the 'Seagull' pub. The track was actually written to describe the engineering that went on to replace the losses in the Falklands war. Though I've purposely not put an age to this piece, by the time Bodie and Doyle visited the North East, the Falklands conflict would have been well over and the working men finding themselves once again without work.


	2. The Uninvited Houseguests

(This chapter written in loving memory of Zoe Kenwood and Lewis Collins)

I was filled with trepidation as we drove southward. Ray had finally stopped berating me for me for my outlandish purchase and was now considering all matters practical. I’d chased down the agent who didn’t seem that keen to see us now that a sale had been done, but we’d agreed to meet her at the hamlet of Worlds End at eleven o’clock. First of my concerns (after surviving the stinking van of course), was that ‘Worlds End’ didn’t seem to appear anywhere on the map. We stopped to breakfast in the charming little town of Fordingbridge after skimming the perimeter of the great New Forest and now we were totally lost. It was only twenty one hours ago that had I had bid all our savings and then some on a property I was now doubting the existence of.

Ray plucked a pamphlet from a pile on the café’s counter. After scanning it for a few minutes, he rapidly became the newest expert on The New Forest.

“The New Forest was first recorded as  _Nova Foresta_  in The Domesday Book in 1086, Bodie!”

“Really? Simply fascinating, Ray. Don’t suppose it mentions Worlds End or how to get there does it?”

“No but the whole area looks spectacular! There’s even talk of it becoming a National park apparently.”

“Oh ‘spectacular’! We’re not here for a geography lesson though are we, we’re here to see what I’ve wasted all our money on. We’ve reached Fordingbridge and from now on, we haven’t got a clue!”

“Oh shut up you miserable bugger, we’re ex CI5 agents and we’ve never had trouble before finding a pub between us!”

“Well what do you suggest then, Hawkeye, because this is Fordingbridge and it doesn’t look anything like the photographs did.”

“Well use yer noggin, Bodie, p’raps we ought to ask this pretty waitress who’s just bringing you your breakfast?”

~~~oOo~~~

Bodie brightened considerably with the arrival of food. I could tell he was nervous and couldn’t really blame him. Already his sensitive nose had had to endure hours in my smelly van and now we had no real idea of our final destination. I couldn’t really concur with his sudden notion that the pub was a figment of his imagination. There was an agent waiting to meet and be rid of us somewhere and if we didn’t get our faces fed soon, she would probably be fuming. As the delicious looking fodder was being served, I tried out the waitress.

“Thanks, love, I don’t suppose you come from World's End?”

“I beg your pardon, Sir?”

“World’s End? I was wondering if it’s somewhere you might know?”

“Are you taking the mickey out of me, Sir? Please don’t if you are, as I don’t really like it.”

“Eh? No of course I’m not!”

“I might come from Aberdeen, Sir, but I assure you there are many good people in Aberdeen and I’ve worked my backside off to get a good university place down here.”

I was gobsmacked at insulting someone without really trying and knew that I’d never get local information, never lone salt and pepper from the very Scottish waitress who took herself off in a huff.

Bodie was smirking to himself and I was heartened when an interruption almost caused him to choke on his sausage.

“You’re too far West for Worlds End. Not that there’s much there though. Couple of cottages and a pub and the pub’s closed down.”

I homed in on the interloper immediately congratulating myself on my amazing detective skills.

“Do you know this ‘Worlds End’ please, Sir? We really need to find it and can’t seem to spot it on the map.”

“It’s not on any map. It’s not really a place to be honest, just an area. And there’s nothing much there. Except the pub of course and the pub’s closed down.”

“It’s the pub we want to find.”

“The pub’s closed down.”

I wondered if the old man was a professional halfwit or just practised idiocy for fun and cursing my cooling eggs, persevered.

“Please, Sir, we really need to find ‘The House at Worlds End’. If you could point out where we need to go, I’d be very grateful.”

With the help of the scanty map on my leaflet and a biro grudgingly loaned by the English hating waitress, Bodie and I finally had a road to follow. All we had to do was find it, follow it and sure as eggs were (congealed) eggs, the pub would magically appear. If we were to go far beyond the pub we would eventually find ourselves in ‘Godforsaken stinking swamp’ apparently, but that would be our own affair.

We paid our bill, smiled sweetly at the waitress and made to leave. As we were exiting the café, I heard the old man mumbling to nobody in particular,

“Not much over there at Worlds End. Just the pub, and the pub’s closed down.”

~~~oOo~~~

Somehow, Ray had once again worked his magic on an informant and we were now, supposedly, on the right road. The knowledge that we were headed in the right direction did little to calm my frazzled nerves. We were heading deeper into the forest towards a place which couldn’t _possibly_ attract passing trade for all the auction brochure’s glowing accolades. Apparently, according to the old man that Ray had so charmed, we only had another couple of bends to negotiate before crossing a ford which was the only notable feature before the pub. The only Ford which would have given me pleasure at that point would have been my old CI5 Capri relinquished some ten years before and I cursed getting older and my stupid new dreams.

The bends came all too soon before Ray splashed through the rushing waterway. Ahead was the short drive to our future. Wishing myself anywhere else, I closed my eyes until he finally brought the van to a halt. I fought to open my tightly clamped lids as Ray exclaimed,

“Oh my God, Bodie, Oh my God!”

In my younger days I’d never been terrified by what I might see. Scared maybe, sometimes disgusted and frequently saddened but never actually terrified. I knew that my first view of The House at Worlds End would be one that I would never forget and for a moment I was happy to live on in blissful ignorance. As I finally blinked at the place, I simply sat and stared just as Ray was doing.

‘The House at Worlds End’ was the most ethereally beautiful building I think I’d ever laid eyes on. Though historical majesty shone from its every brick, it looked well maintained and I knew that any surveyor would have his work cut out when he came up against us. It was a huge place, far bigger than the photos had suggested and though we were in the middle of a wood, sat in a large clearing all of its own. We were so taken aback that it was almost a full minute before Ray spoke.

“Are you sure this is what you bid on, Bodie? This … this place, it’s just …”

He was too choked to finish but I knew just what he was trying to say.

“Bodie it’s amazing, how the hell you get this for seventy grand it must be worth twice that and more!”

 

“I dare say we’ll soon find out, Ray. There must be something really wrong with it ‘cos it looks far better than anything we had in mind. Oh God, don’t say it’s got subsidence or dry rot or something …”

“Bodie it’s seventeenth century! If a bit of damp hasn’t knocked it down yet, I doubt it ever will.”

“Well we’re way off the beaten track. Surely it can’t get that much custom way out here and you and I certainly can’t simply afford to buy a posh place in the country that doesn’t pay its way.”

“The pictures showed happy customers, Bodie. Let’s find out all the facts before you play your harbinger of doom part, eh mate?”

Still mentally stuck to the grimy seats of Rays van, our reverie was shaken by the urgent toots from the horn of a shiny, cherry red Ford Fiesta.

“That’ll be the agent, Bodie.”

“Indeed it will. Look once again, I’m sorry, Ray, I …”

“Oh for God’s sake, shut up and COME ON, Bodie!”

I shut up and went.

“Mr Bodie? Hi, I’m Alicia Robertson, agent. I’ve checked your finances are in place and am therefore in position to hand over the keys on the understanding that no works are undertaken until your mortgage payment is made. Is this your builder?”

“Er, this is Ray Doyle my business partner.”

“Oh! Congratulations, Mr Doyle! Now look, I know you’ll want to get on but I wouldn’t recommend you move a single brick until all the money’s gone through. There aren’t any restrictions on works done bar your own planning permissions, but the vendor is eager to get her money and won’t take kindly to you until she gets payment if you get my meaning.”

“Miss Robertson, me and Ray aren’t property developers, we just want to run the pub!”

Alicia Robertson’s eyes paled like a dying fish but still eager to be off she attempted one last stab at professionalism.

“You want to run the pub? You didn’t apply for the promotional pack.”

“I only saw the place advertised yesterday. I went to the auction and got it. Has any planning permission been granted do you know?”

“No, that’s why a lot of the builders weren’t so keen. With planning in place this place would have pulled in an excess of a hundred thousand. We did have a few who looked at it as a going concern but they seemed to lose their enthusiasm after their first visit.”

My heart fell into my boots but Ray, God bless him, wasn’t going to be swayed.

“What put those buyers off, Miss Robertson?”

“No idea. It was a good enough business which only ended when the landlord died a few months ago. He ran it with his wife for many years and after her death, just carried on apparently. It’s his daughter who’s selling the place. She’s living overseas now and doesn’t have any interest herself in keeping it. There’s not much more I can really tell you about it.”

“So you don’t know of any reason why others lost interest? No glaring problems we need to know about?”

“None whatsoever. As I said, as far as I know, it was successful enough while it was open, but I’m a land agent, the pub trade isn’t really my speciality, Mr Doyle.”

“Well p’raps as such, you can tell us exactly what’s ours and what isn’t, where the boundaries are and so on?”

I marvelled at Ray thinking to ask all the questions that I should be asking. He wasn’t just a pretty face my Ray and not fazed in the least by the frosty Miss Robertson.

“Well yes, basically all you can see is yours. There’s a garden and a paddock at the back and the fence that runs round the perimeter of the carpark extends about half a mile into the woodland beyond. That’s yours but the land behind the field isn’t really useable as it’s basically swamp. Over the fence is farmland which is accessed from the opposite direction and this as far as the road goes, there’s nothing beyond this point. You’d know all this if you’d applied for the promotion pack of course. There’s stacks of paperwork somewhere in the bar and more lodged with the solicitor including ground plans. All the fixtures and fittings inside are yours including any stock that may still be in date. The vender has already had anything she wanted to keep removed. Now if you don’t mind, gentlemen, I’ve an appointment at twelve and really need to be on my way.”

I was getting as tired of Alicia as she obviously was with us and assuring her that we could explore the interior of the place by ourselves, we took charge of our keys and bid her farewell. As we watched the last flashes of red as her car disappeared through the trees, we looked at each other in amazement. It was so quiet, we might well be the only two people left on earth. The pub was certainly aptly named. With a sense of pride we glanced at the swinging sign which displayed a summer scene of the building in sunshine. Surely a prophecy of days to come.

Both momentarily lost in our thoughts, we were suddenly brought back to life by a cacophony of squeaks and snorts from somewhere behind the building.

“Christ, Bodie, what the bloody hell was that?”

“Um, I’m not completely sure, but it sounded a bit like a pig!”

“Alicia never mentioned anything about a pig, did she? Oh god, you don’t suppose there are wild boar around here do you? They can be vicious sods from what I’ve heard!”

“Well I don’t know, _you’re_ the local expert, but we need to check it out 'cos we can’t move into a place that’s gonna be terrorised by vicious wild pigs!”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, Bodie, it’ll probably be more scared of us than we are of it. It’s probably just after … I dunno, acorns or something.”

“Is that what pigs eat, acorns?”

“Well I don’t know, do I? _You’re_ the one that’s been to Africa and stuff, didn’t they eat acorns out there?”

“We didn’t really have any acorns out there.”

We were stalling and we both knew it. Another enormous squeal made us both jump and we looked at each other guiltily.

“Come on, Bodie this is stupid, we can’t just stand here, we need to deal with it, whatever it is!”

“What do you suggest then, Rambo?”

“Are you carrying, Bodie?

 “What? No of course I’m not bloody carrying I haven’t worn a gun in years! Besides what do you suggest we do, blast it to death? It’s a pig not a bloody PLO assassin!”

“Well I dunno, I just feel a bit vulnerable being unarmed against an unknown opponent. I suggest we see what it is and if it tries to charge us, we run like hell.”

It was the best plan either of us had come up with so far and with all the stealth that two retired CI5 agents could muster we peaked around the corner like two frightened schoolboys.

There, bathed in late autumn sunshine, sat our pretty garden and beyond it the large paddock which enclosed the object of our terror. The enormous saddleback appeared to be housed alongside two small goats, a modest flock of chickens and an ancient looking donkey. The pig looked happy enough wallowing away to itself until a crow landed on it and pecked at some unfortunate grub causing another bout of furious grunting.

“Well there’s your wild boar, Farmer Doyle, I think we can rest assured it’s not about to charge us, don’t you?”

“Who do you think they belong to, Bodie? Did the advert mention anything about animals?”

“Well there _was_ a photo of some hens but I didn’t realise it was connected to the pub I just thought it was included to show an ‘idyllic view of the countryside’. They must belong to somebody, look there’s some sort of food in that trough and they all look well cared for enough.”

“Oh god, you don’t recon the old landlord bred them for food do you because I certainly don’t fancy slaughtering any animals!”

“You were all ready to gun one to kingdom come a minute ago and I can’t really see roast goat being a favourite on the menu can you? I’m sure we’ll find out who owns them in time and as they’re on our land, we can charge whoever that might be some rent. In the meantime, we’ve got a pub to explore!”

With all the drama of the swine of terror, we’d almost forgotten our reasons for being there and suddenly gleefully remembered we now had the keys to our new home.

“I’d carry over the threshold, Raymond dearest but I fear my hips couldn’t take it.”

“I hope that’s more a reflection of your dodgy hips than my weight, you cheeky git!”

Laughingly, we turned the ornate key in the aged door and got our first glimpse of our new abode. We entered a large porch which would be ideal in winter months for patrons waiting for taxis, before coming straight into the main public bar. This was slightly familiar though the photos could never have done the place justice. It was as grand as it was cosy with a beamed vaulted ceiling and a humongous fireplace. I could suddenly picture the crackling fire with happy drinkers sat basking in its glowing warmth.

“Shit, Ray do you think we should light the fire? We’ve no idea if the place has any services running and it’ll probably be dark by five!”

“One way to find out, Sunshine let’s try the lights, eh?”

~~~oOo~~~

Behind the bar, I hit the biggest switch I could find and the whole place was suddenly bathed in light. Underneath the lighting panel were more knobs and buttons which I pressed at random until the whole bar area lit up in a myriad of sounds and colours. With the pumps, chillers and jukebox turned on, it instantly felt far more like a pub and less like a deserted church. Leaving the electrics on, we wandered through to the snug, a dear little area that I immediately knew would become one of our favoured places after hours. A narrow passageway led through to the sort of kitchen which would once have commanded a small army to run and now contained all the mod cons required of a busy catering establishment.

I marvelled at some of the ancient fixtures. The huge butler sink was an objet d'art compared to the industrial looking microwaves and I wondered why over time, designers had sadly forfeited beauty for practicality. The fridges proved to be empty but clean and at the far end of the kitchen I discovered the boiler, a modern affair which fired up at the touch of a button.

Bodie had never been particularly interested in kitchens and eager to see the rest of the place, was busy scrabbling up the back staircase towards the bedrooms. All five of them were charming but the master was heavenly. A huge wooden bed dominated a space which I knew my Debenhams divan would be lost in. Bodie and I only had sticks of furniture between us, none of which was of any quality so it was heartening to see that the living quarters hadn’t been stripped of their assets. There were some lovely pieces scattered about and even after weeks of disuse, save for a merest layer of dust, the rooms appeared comfy and clean.

My detective brain had me rifling through cupboards and poking in corners and it was almost half an hour before I realised that Bodie had disappeared once again. I let him have his head. This day had been a long time in coming and he deserved the relief he must be feeling. Happy to potter, I let him get on with it until I heard a delighted cry from somewhere in the depths of the bar.

“Ray, come and see what I’ve done!”

With a final fond glance around our new bedroom I went to survey what had so tickled my beloveds fancy. Though it would never do to tell him, Bodie’s occasional childish glee never failed to warm me, but this time he’d outdone himself.

“Oh my god, Bodie you got the fire going!”

“Thought I’d better test the chimneys out, make sure they didn’t need a good sweeping. Nice though isn’t it?”

“You were a boy scout in your misspent youth, weren’t you?”

“Yeah … wanna see my woggle?”

“Give over you reprobate, though I do have to admit, it looks gorgeous. Do you think we ought to get the sleeping bags out of the van? I can’t see any earthly reason why we need to return to London tonight do you?”

“No but what’s wrong with that enormous bed upstairs, it looks a darn sight more comfortable than my old sleeping bags.”

“Er, it’s someone else’s bed though Bodie, that someone else has slept in, I dunno if I fancy that.”

“Ray do you know where my sleeping bags came from?”

“Well I dunno, do I, some sort of camping shop I presume.”

“Ray those bags were old when I relieved the army of ‘em over thirty years ago. God knows how many men slept in them before we ever did.”

“Oh charming! The bed it is then, what else do we need to do today?”

“Check out the phone line and if it’s working then book us a surveyor, that’s the most urgent thing on the list. I suggest anything else can wait until tomorrow when we’ve recovered from our hangovers.”

“Oh planning on a little celebratory drink then are we?”

“Ray, we’ve got a whole pub full of unused beer. At the very least we need to test it! Also we’ll need to think about food at some point, do you think there’s a Wimpy or something around here?”

“Hardly. You’ll find a homemade lasagne in the back of the van.”

“Really, you never told me about that!”

“Well even you couldn’t eat it raw, Bodie. It’s in a foil wrapped dish inside my tool chest. You fetch it and I’ll try and fathom out how the ovens work.”

As Bodie happily loped off in search of his supper, I stood for a moment staring into the mesmerising flames. There was something magical about a real fire and for a moment, I was lost in my own thoughts. Turning towards Bodie’s beckoning cry I was suddenly hit by a rush of cold air which took my breath away. It was like being stood before an open freezer and most disconcerting. Bodie called out again as I shakily stretched my hand out in front of me and but as quickly as it had come, the cold feeling was gone.

~~~oOo~~~

We hardly had the energy to move after Ray’s delicious pasta, but with a whole bar at our disposal I had no intentions of bedding down early. The whole day had been so overwhelming, we’d neglected to even glance at our beer stocks and I was embarrassed to say I had no idea what the pub actually sold. The bar sported a splendid beer engine with six shiny pumps only two of which were displaying their badges. The first was very recognisable and I mentally whooped with joy.

“Hey, Ray, we sell Hopgood’s apparently!”

“That’s your old shower isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is, and as long as the line isn’t dry, _this_ , my son, was our top seller, Hopgood’s British Best.”

“I must admit we didn’t sell a lot of real ale in the bars I worked, they were all about lager and Long Island ice tea, but I’m game for anything, so hit me with it barman!”

I drew the precious liquid through the pipes and just about managed to produce two perfect pints before a tell-tale cloudiness indicated the imminent end of the barrel. The delicious brew sank down a treat giving us both renewed thirst but we were too full of food to bother locating another keg. The next treat was from a local brewer I’d never heard of. ‘Forest Fox Natural Cyder’ hit all the right spots but at six percent would have rendered us insensible had we not called a halt to proceedings. We doused the dying embers of the fire before making way to bed.

Quite unaffected by the alcohol, Ray was especially attentive on that night, our first in the pub. As sleep tried to take me, I whispered gently into his hair.

“Thanks for being here with me.”

“A pleasure, you idiot,” he drowsily replied.

As I turned to kiss him an icy breeze wafted over my ear and the touch of his lips nearly froze my skin. An old feeling of dread stole over me as I urgently looked for his reaction, but the moment had passed and Ray was asleep.

In the morning our tasks were divided by the toss of a coin. Ray hit the phones to chase our surveyor and apply for our liquor licences. I took the van off in search of supplies. Though Fordingbridge was a good way off, there was a well-stocked farm shop within reasonable distance. It wasn’t the cheapest, but would serve us well enough for the next few days.

I returned just after ten laden with newspapers guide books, bacon and bread. Ray was all smiles as he bounced into the kitchen.

“He’ll be here tomorrow, Bodie, the mortgage company came up trumps!”

“Wow that WAS quick. All we gotta hope now is the place passes muster with him.”

“Well sod ‘im if it doesn’t ‘cos I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get the money somehow, how come you only bought six eggs?”

“Er, I thought I’d look at those chickens and see if they’d laid us any.”

“Oh good thinking! I’d forgotten all about them to tell you the truth. Come on, let’s go and have a look whilst the coffee’s brewing.”

We donned our wellies and made for the paddock. Immediately, Ray became ominously alert.

“Shit, Bodie, I think someone’s out there poking about!”

A creak from behind me caused me to throw a look over my shoulder at our pub sign ~ which proudly displayed a picture of a fox sunning itself in a woodland glade.

“Oh my God, Ray the sign, it’s …”

“Yes I _know_ it needs a drop of oil, Bodie, in the meantime we seem to have an intruder which I think tops seasonal maintenance don’t you?”

“But, Ray …”

“Come ON, Bodie!”

The intruder didn’t look too much of a threat. In fact he was wandering around talking away to the chickens which didn’t immediately strike me as a precursor to violence, but my partner and I had been too well trained to take anything at face value. As we cautiously approached, he turned around startled and held his hands up in supplication. There was still a lot to be said for Ray’s threatening looks.

“Hallo, there! I’m Billy. Billy The Kid.”

Ray obviously wasn’t mightily impressed.

“Well good for you, Billy, this here’s Butch Cassidy and I’m Sundance, what can we do for you?”

“It’s a play on me name, see? Billy the kid because of the goats, you know? I look after the animals for Harry. Well I suppose I look after them for you's now if you’re the new owners. You are the new owners aren’t yers?”

“You’re not from round these parts, are you, Billy?”

“No Sor, uh, sorry, Sundance Sor, I’m from Belfast originally. Moved over here ten years ago when me Da went to work at Fawley.”

“What’s that?”

“Hey, you’s aren’t from round here either are yers? Fawley’s an oil refinery, one of the biggest in the country. M' Da was an engineer see, a good one. Fawley wanted him and they paid for us to relocate from Ireland.”

“A pleasant tale which doesn’t really explain how you come to be standing in our paddock, Billy.”

“Oh no, sorry, Mr … Cassidy?”

“You can call me Bodie and you can call him Ray.”

“Sorry, Mr Bodie.”

“No, just Bodie.”

“Okay, sorry, er … Mr Just Bodie, well when I finished me schoolin, I didn’t really fancy becomin’ an engineer and m' Da didn’t really fancy it for me either. Said I blow all of Hampshire up if I set foot in Fawley, so the folks sent me to Sparsholt. That’s another school before you ask, a school of the countryside. I studied forests and the animals that live in them and I met this girl while I was there …”

“Oh yeah, made a man out of Billy The Kid did she?”

“Oh, Molly, Mr Ray, she’d make mincemeat out of any man and God how I loved her, but she was always destined for better than me. She’s at veterinary school now, but I met her when she was a barmaid here. She lived with her Ma in the cottages yonder and I still lodge with her mother so I can tend to these animals.”

Sensing Billy’s presence to be no immediate risk, I suddenly remembered our breakfast.

“We’ve coffee brewing in the kitchen, Billy if you fancy a cup?”

“Why that’s grand, Mr Just Bodie. To be sure, I’d love one!”

~~~oOo~~~

Billy was a harmless soul and the first I’d met since taking our keys. Though he’d never be the brightest spark, he knew far more about my new home than I did, so I surreptitiously interrogated him.  

“This Harry person, he was the last landlord, I take it?

“Yes, Harry Nails. He was a grand man, Harry, and his dear wife Margaret was a fine lady.”

“So they’re Harry’s animals out there are they? What did he keep them for?”

“Well no reason really. Foresters don’t need a reason to keep animals. Stella the pig I _do_ remember. A bloke forget to bring his Access card and couldn’t pay for his meal but swore the value would be left on the doorstep the following day. Be Jesus, that must make Stella over ten years old by now! The goats were also just left here, it happens more times than you might think but the chickens were Margaret’s idea. They’re great layers, not many about these parts are without chickens.”

“And the donkey? Is there a story behind that?”

“Ah, Primrose! Sorry, sors, she arrived before my time. She once appeared in the nativity play but I can’t say that it ended well. She’s no trouble though you understand, I feed her I and cut her hooves back and she goes about her business, she’s no real bother. None of the animals are.”

“So did Harry pay you to look after the livestock?”

“Ahh no, Mr Ray, but he let me study them, so he did. Their care was all part of me final project and I hope to get a ‘highly commended’ result for me practical work. I’ve a few more months to complete and if I get the results I want, hope to get a decent job with the Forestry Commission.”

“Good for you Billy.”

“Ahh thanks, Mr Ray, it’ll be great if that happens, but I won’t say that I haven’t got troubles on me mind.”

“And what bothers you then, Billy?”

“Ahh, you’s if truth be told, Mr Just Bodie, sor. Talk’s been rife round these parts in recent weeks of what would happen to the pub once it was sold. Most seem to think the new owners would want to knock it down see and what would happen to the animals if the place was knocked down? You’s don’t want to knock it down do yers?”

“No, Billy, we don’t want to knock it down.”

“Ahh, that's what I told them all, they won't want to knock it down, I said.”

“Who’s ‘they’ exactly, are there many locals that use the place?”

“Of course there are, this place is the heart of the local community, so it is.”

“Well that's good to know at least, thanks, Billy.”

“There's just one more thing, Mr Ray, we're going to be needing more goat pellets soon. I can tell you where to buy them if that would that be ok?”

“Yeah don't worry, Billy, we’ll get your goat feed and anything else the animals might need.”

“Ahh, that’s just grand, so it is. Well thanks for the coffee, Mr Just Bodie, I better be getting on I’ve got the chickens to clean out yet. Will yers be wanting me to bring you over some eggs?”

“Yes that would be grand too, Billy, I’ll see you out whilst Just Bodie washes up the mugs.”

As I saw Billy saunter off to continue his chores, the pub sign gave a loud creak and I cursed the fact that I’d half promised Bodie I’d get it oiled. I looked up at it judging what sort of ladder I might need before frowning to myself. I was sure the picture had depicted a handsome fox, but I’d been mistaken, it did in fact display a rather regal stags head, backlit by a pretty harvest moon. Bemused, I smiled at myself. Though I’d never admit it out loud, I was getting as daft as Bodie in my old age, which was not a particularly comforting thought to have.

Mr Lord was jovial sort for one of his ilk. I’d met many surveyors working on site and never been particularly enamoured with them, so Mr Lord was a pleasant surprise. It took him most of the morning to complete his inspection and Bodie and I consciously tried to avoid hovering around him like pesky flies, but finally with a smile of triumph, he was done.

“Good news, gents, it’s all fine, quite a splendid building in fact, though you do have bats in your belfry, Mr Bodie.”

“I’ve been telling him that for years, Mr Lord but what does that mean for us exactly?”

“They’re roosting in the eves above the living quarters, Mr Doyle. That’s not really a problem right now, but it might be if ever you wished to convert your attic. Planning are getting a bit funny about bats these days, but the creatures won’t hurt you or cause any damage to your property. As long as you leave them alone, they’ll pay you the same courtesy and now I’ll also leave you alone as I’ve another place to view at two. I’ll submit the report for your mortgage, but you won’t have problems with it, we’ve passed far worse buildings than this one. Congratulations, a nice place you have here.”

We kept our delighted cheers to ourselves until Mr Lord’s car was well out of sight. In the afternoon, we performed a full inventory of the cellar. It was back breaking work lugging the empty barrels and I was more than ready for a long soak by the time we’d finished. I came down all clean and shiny, to find Bodie hunched over his fireplace and I smiled to myself knowing how proud he was becoming of his fire making powers.

“Fancy a quick snifter before you go up for your bath, I think we’ve earned it don’t you?”

Bodie didn’t answer so I raised my voice a little.

 “Oi, cloth ears! I asked you if you wanted a drink!”

I looked over at my prone partner only to realise with dawning horror that he wasn’t tending the fire at all but clutching his sides desperately and starting to whimper in a most horrible way.

“Bodie! What’s wrong? What is it, is it your heart? Oh my Christ, Bodie!”

I raced to his side but he shrugged me off roughly.

“Can’t stay here, Ray, we’ve gotta get out of here!”

“Eh, what are you on about, you dumb crud?”

“Gotta get out of here, _now_ , they’re everywhere, Ray can’t you see them?”

“See what, what are you talking about, Bodie?”

“Ghosts, Doyle the place is infested with bloody ghosts!”

“Where? I can’t see any.”

Bodie poked his head up and I could see from his tear streaked face that there would be no punchline coming to this particularly bad joke.

“No, they’re hiding themselves again, looks like. We’re not safe here, though, I’m telling you, we need to get out!”

“Listen, mate you sure you’re not just a bit stressed? It’s been a busy few days and we’re both tired.”

“For God’s sake, Ray, listen to me, this pub has got ghosts in it! That’s the reason we got it so cheap and nobody else wanted it, it’s damn well haunted!”

“Bodie apart from being a bit of a maniac on occasions, you’re one of the most sensible and practical people I know, why would you believe in such a thing?”

“Oh I’ve had my fair share of them, Ray believe me.”

“Where? Where else have you seen ghosts and how did you know that’s what they were?”

“In Africa, they were everywhere, crying and moaning deep into the night, the dead spirits of tortured souls. Sometimes they’d keep whole platoons awake with their taunting.”

“So how many have you seen here then and were they ‘crying and moaning’?”

“One. I’ve definitely seen one. It was a woman and she was walking away from me.”

“So you saw a woman in here and now you’re convinced she must be a ghost because you got an attack of the willies back out in Africa? It was a war zone, Bodie mate. I know how awful it must have been for you, but there’s just no such thing as ghosts. If there was a woman in here she must be still around somewhere, all we’ve gotta do is look for her.”

“Oh for pity’s sake, Doyle, you can’t see her because she walked through the damn wall! I know what I saw, I’m not going crazy but we both will be if we stay here, I’m warning you! Look you want proof, I’ll give you proof, come out you bastards, come out and show yourselves!”

 I was seriously contemplating calling a doctor for Bodie when I heard a small cough from the far corner of the room. Astonished, I slowly followed Bodies pointing finger until my eyes fell on what appeared to be a young boy sat on a three legged stool facing away from us. In complete bewilderment, I tried to get up but Bodie hurriedly pulled me back down.

“Stay away from it, Ray for _God’s_ sake!”

I stared at Bodie in ill-concealed terror but though he was nearly incoherent, he hadn’t finished with ghostboy.

“Go on you evil creature be gone from this place, this is our home!”

Astounded, I looked over at the small figure on the stool whose shoulders were visibly starting to shake. Trembling, Bodie was just about to launch into another diatribe when I crossly stopped him.

“For heaven’s sake, Bodie, it’s just a child. Look, he’s crying, you sod, you made him cry!”

I forcefully pulled away from Bodie before he could stop me again and made my way towards the desolate figure.

“Ray, don’t go near it, it might harm you!”

I ignored him, stealthily continuing towards the weeping child.

“Ray please!”

“What’s your name, boy?” I asked trying to sound authoritative.

The kid just cried harder so I was forced to persevere.

“Your name, what do they call you? And have the grace to turn around when you’re being addressed!”

Slowly and shakily, the child turned towards me until I was looking into the damp eyes of an angelic if slightly grubby face.

“What _is_ your name, boy?”

“S … Seth, Sir my name is Seth.”

“And do you mean us harm, Seth?”

“No, Sir. I’m so sorry, Sir, I was never meant to scare you two, only the other people. Please ask Mr Bodie not to shout again. The elders will be angry with me but they’d never, ever shout. I hate it when people shout.”

“You know our names?”

“Yes, I always have.”

“How come, Seth, how do you our names?”

“Stop talking to it, Ray, it’s surely trying to trick you!”

“No, Mr, Bodie, I’d never do that! You’re the chosen ones you see! The Inn chose you this time as it’s custodians. We would never harm you. We would never hurt anyone, we can’t do that, but it _was_ our job to frighten all the rest away.”

“You’re a ghost, boy aren’t you? A spirit?”

“Yes, Mr Bodie, you know that I am.”

“Prove that to Ray then. Do something … ghostly ~ without hurting him of course!”

“As I already said, Sir we could never harm you, but if it’s truth that you need, will this do?”

With that the young fellow rose to his feet as calm as you like and walked through the fireplace wall. I truly hadn’t believed until that moment and in a second, Bodie was there for me as my legs buckled.

“Shit, Bodie, I didn’t see that, I can’t have done, there’s no such thing as ghosts!”

“Oh no, I’ve scared you once again!”

As the distressed boy reappeared just behind Bodie, I fear I almost fainted. Obviously proud of being proved right, Bodie capably took charge.

“Look, Ray this is all my fault, I brought us here, and I’ll get us out again. Now put your head between your knees and I’ll fetch you some brandy. Boy! Can you get some brandy for Ray?”

“No of course not, Sir!”

“Oh bloody ghosts, I forgot you’re all talk and no substance.”

“It’s not that, Mr Bodie, Sir, I’m just too young to be allowed to serve liquor.”

“Oh good grief! Look as Inn Custodian, I hereby give you special compensation to serve alcohol with the medicinal purpose of aiding my partner who on the whole, looks really rather flaky.”

“Oh YES Sir, Mr Bodie, Sir, happy to help, Sir!”

~~~oOo~~~

Counting to ten, I started to curse. I cursed myself for my impetuousness. _Everything_ about The House at Worlds End had fallen so easily into our laps that it should have been obvious that we were heading for a massive fall. I cursed perusing ‘Booze News’ a publication I’d rarely even glanced at. I cursed Mr Lord for his glowing inspection and I cursed the very pub for so enchanting my partner before shattering his dreams. Of all the problems we might have faced, dry rot, flood risks or even the ‘Godforsaken Stinking Swamp’, I had never imagined that my old adversaries, The Ghosts, would play such a devastating part in our futures. Ray however, seemed rather taken with the boy. Admittedly, the boy seemed rather taken with Ray and with his own new elevated position of barkeep. Sighing to myself, I knew I had to end the charade and get us to a place of safety.

“Right, Boy, how many of you are there?”

“There are five of us, Sir.”

“And why haven’t you passed over? Why haven’t you gone to, I dunno … Heaven or somewhere?”

“This _is_ our Heaven, Sir. Heaven’s a place where you feel happy and safe. We were all happy and safe once in this inn whereas other places and people were our personal hell.”

I’d known hell on earth and was quite unprepared for the boy’s simple statement. I was still mightily annoyed however and certainly in no mood to back down.

“Right, we need to see all of you! Summon your others as we all need a serious talk!”

Just as I was trying to sound masterful, Ray decided to come round with a dreamy smile plastered over his silly face.

“I feel safe here, Bodie. It feels just like home.”

"Well hold that thought, Sunshine as Wonderboy’s trying to magic up his mates.”

“Let’s just hear ‘em out, Bodie, _please_?”

“Okay we’ll hear what they have to say and then we’ll check our contract. There must be some sort of get out clause, _someone_ that we’ll be able to sue. It just shouldn’t be allowed that ordinary working men have to be made to live with ghosts, it’s just ridiculous, I tell you, heads will roll when …”

“Look, Bodie, here they all are!”

I turned to face a motley looking crew of two women, two men and the boy, all lined up as if facing a firing squad.  

“Who is your speaker?” I barked.

A serene looking woman, the elder of the two stepped forward.

“Amos is our elder, but he badly suffers the stammer so I’ll gladly speak for us. My name is Elspeth. Here also, are Henry and Millicent, Seth of course, having already made your acquaintance.  

Even though I was addressing a filthy ghost, something about the woman’s poise forbade me be rude to her. Instead, I found myself becoming as potty as Ray and attempting to converse with the creature.

“We bought this place in good faith. We paid a heap load of money for deeds which never mentioned the inclusion of tenants.”

“The Inn chose you, Mr Bodie and will never see you out of pocket. Only you as custodians can banish us and we can only fall on your mercy to ask that you don’t.”

“And what would happen to you if we _did_ banish you? Where would you go?”

“I’ve no idea, no one’s ever banished us before.”

“Oh I see! Well we’re going to have to think about this for a bit.”

Ray was looking at me with beseeching eyes and I just _knew_ it was going to be a very long night.

“Before we think however, we need to set some ground rules. How many people can actually see you?”

“Only those who we choose to be seen by.”

“Right, customers are off limits, that’s the first rule. If people are frightened away, we’ll lose our trade making all of us homeless.”

“We’re not here as fairground attractions, Mr Bodie, Sir, we simply wish to remain.”

“Er, okay second rule, our bedroom is off limits to ANY of you, no arguments!”

“Taken as read, Sir, we have no wish to pry.”

“Good! Final rule for the moment, until I think of more of course, is stop fucking with our sign! Choose a picture and stick with it!”

“Hey I _thought_ the sign looked different!”

“Please shut up and be quiet whilst I’m telling the ghosts off, Ray.”

“Oh, okay, sorry.”

“And I’m sorry too, Sir for the pub changes the signage, not us.”

“What now you’re telling me that that the very pub itself has magical powers? God knows I’m never stocking that ‘Special Cyder’ ever again!”

“The Inn _is_ a magical place Mr Bodie, Sir. It called you didn’t it? We need you here, you and Mr Doyle. You’d found each other once again which was your only real true destiny. You were _always_ meant to be together you and he and your long journey should end here in the place that beckons you. We’ve all seen your pasts, my friends and I. Such hard lives of turbid fear and violence, far beyond the hard times that we ever suffered. I myself viewed your own times in Africa, such a brave young man in the face of adversity, but the lost souls there were tortured and suffering. Though I pity them, we aren’t the same. We’re at peace now and this is our home. Send us away if that is your wish, we’ll put up no fight.”

For some absurd reason, her words touched my soul. I looked down at my lolling partner. He’d faced down men three times his size and lived to tell the tale. If this _was_ to be our destiny, I owed it to him to at least try.

“Right you’re on a month’s trial! If for any reason you piss me off, or upset Ray over _anything_ , I’ll give you a banishment you won’t forget!”

The new houseguests all pressed their hands together before melting away through the fireplace wall. I looked towards the silent bar intending on getting Ray and myself drunker than we’d ever been before.

~~~oOo~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Opening Night

The pub was strangely quiet without Bodie in it, but there was no way we could both travel to London. Whilst a small part of me missed him terribly, there was another that wasn’t missing the M3, the congestion or the diesel fumes one little bit. He’d have capable help in our old friend Murphy when he arrived to clear out our flat and a night on the tiles in the Big Smoke certainly wouldn’t hurt him.

Life had been chaos and time precious since our payments had cleared on The House at Worlds End. Our bank accounts now looked decidedly sparse and if we were ever to benefit from the bounty of Christmas trade, we had our work cut out. We intended to open at the end of November and the list of jobs was growing longer by the day.

Dreading a looming afternoon of interviews, I was spending the morning in relatively relaxation. After relieving the chickens of their early offerings, I had mucked out Primrose to save Billy a job and was now stood resolutely holding a ladder. Though Seth was never one to shirk a task, I marvelled at his nerve which displayed more youthful enthusiasm than finesse as he applied the oil can to the top of our creaking sign.

“Christmas at The Inn was always a magical time, Sir. It was such a treat to see the ladies and gents all decked in their finery. The fire would be roaring and the whole placed festooned with beautifully glowing candles.”

“Just concentrate on what you’re doing, please, Seth, we don’t want any accidents, do we?”

“Oh they were always the best of days. For a lad like me, there were always good spoils. How I remember those shining hams, enough to make your mouth water, they were, Mr Doyle!”

“The ladder, just be careful on the ladder, boy.”

“And the geese, Sir! Huge great things stuffed with onions and sage, so fresh they’d been cackling and honking but a day before!”

“Will you just watch what you’re doing!”

“Ahem! Er, Mr Doyle is it?”

I whipped my head around to face the newcomer who was no doubt wondering what sort of lunatic shouted at a sign post. My eyes glanced upwards, but of course Seth was nowhere in sight.

“Er yes, Ray Doyle’s the name, sorry about that, was having a bit of trouble with my ladder.”

I’m sure I heard the echo of a small boy’s laughter, which I steadfastly chose to ignore.

“Sign creaking is it? It’s always done that as my memory serves, no oils seems to cure it. Yours certainly won’t, look it’s leaking all over the ground!”

I looked at the dripping can, cursing the willing but frequently inept assistance of ghosts.

“Oh damn and blast the thing! Sorry, Sir, I didn’t catch your name, but what can I do for you?”

“Symonds is the name, Rodney Symonds, though most call me Rod. It was the missus you see, thought you might been in need of one of her stews, though she prefers to call them ‘casseroles’ of course. Still, they’re not bad eating are Meredith’s stews and what with you chaps being busy and all …”

“Why thank you, Rod and please thank your lovely Meredith from us.”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly call Meredith ‘lovely’, Mr Doyle, few round here would, but she turns a fair hand in the kitchen it’s true to say.”

“Oh, er, splendid. Will you be coming for our opening night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr Doyle, wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“And the lovel… and Meredith?”

“Oh she’ll be here, no doubt about it, if only to get her favourite ‘casserole’ dish back.”

“We’ll treat it like Dresden China, Mr Symonds.”

“See that you do, Doyle, you wouldn’t like to cross the woman!”

With that he was gone and bemused, I looked down at the average looking dish. It was not the first of such visits. Our fridge was already bulging with every sort of culinary gift from hotpots to apple pies. I’d remarked to Bodie on the kindness of strangers until he’d pointed out that most at least, were polite enough provide an excuse to be nosy.

I abandoned the drained oil can for another day and went to prepare for my long day of facing chefs. Though we had an extensive kitchen, Bodie and I had never particularly yearned to run a restaurant, but if we could provide a simple menu of bar snacks and pub grub to those that wanted it, we could greatly extend our profits and patronage.  We had however, advertised our requirements a little _too_ well. By one o’clock, I had no fewer than nine budding cooks all stood in their high fluted hats, each trying to out stare each other, I sighed to myself. It was going to be a longer day than I’d ever imagined.

~~~oOo~~~

The hired panel van was not ideal for negotiating London traffic and as I struggled to park, I once again cursed losing the coin toss to Ray. The alternative however, was the employment of kitchen staff and on the whole, I decided I’d probably got the better deal.

Our old rental flat looked dreary and drab after the cosy homeliness of the pub and I knew that once I’d packed up, would have to employ some serious elbow grease if we were to get back our deposit.

For such a small place, it was packed to the gunnels and I looked in dismay at our many clothes stuffed into drawers. As the furniture was coming with us, I expedited the job by leaving garments in situ intending on loading the chests, togs and all. I took more time with our favoured objects, carefully packing my antique guns and Ray’s tin soldiers with considerable care. My Fiorucci Corsets poster might suit our snug admirably, I could just imagine those dancing girls adding a touch of old style glamour.

Just as I was deciding whether to leave our unexceptional cutlery, a knock at the door alerted me to our dear old colleague Murphy. It was a full two years since we’d last met up and we greeted like over excited schoolboys.

“Bodie, you old dog, you!”

“The S’murph as I live and breathe! Thanks for doing this, we _do_ appreciate it, mate.”

“That’s bed’s still mine though, isn’t it?”

“Course, mate we’ll load it last and drop it off at yours. It’s an Olympian of a bed, it’s certainly seen some fast finishes!”

“Oh my God, I really didn’t need to hear that thank you, I hope the springs are still okay!”

“Made from pure titanium, old son, they’ve taken a bashing, but are good for another few years yet!”

“You’re not really selling it to me, Bodie!”

“Oh I’m sure a few free pints at our new place will soften the blow.”

“I’m holding you to that, but you can put your hand in your pocket a good while before then. There are a few old faces expecting a pint from you tonight, Bodie my fine lad!”

We packed and secured the van and whilst Murphy left for a change of clothes and the collection of his good lady wife, I gave the empty looking flat a desultory clean.

It felt strange to be leaving London, but with the whirlwind pub purchase, we’d hardly noticed its loss. Raymond knew parts of the capital that few had seen. From Northern stock, he’d made London his personal playground, fearing nowhere and venturing everywhere. Though I’d had my own personal boltholes and safe houses, it was never a surprise when Ray reached them first without any indication that he’d known where he was going. We’d served our partnership in the great city but were now fully free to spread our wings. I’d left CI5 and therefore all of the services, under a rather grumpy cloud. For once, I couldn’t agree with Cowley’s attitude and when Ray had left I’d felt no joy in my calling. The brewery job had been a handy stopgap which had introduced me to a new way of living. As I’d entered the dusty London pub on that night to greet my old friends, my only regret was that Ray was not by my side to hallow them with me. It was a joy to meet Anson, Sally and Jax. Macklin had long since retired, but still gave me a filthy look until I furnished him with beer. We laughed and cried and swore like navvies and by the end of the evening, I knew that my old life was over. I had a future to live with the one I loved, goats, ghosts and contrary pub signs included.

After peeling myself unenthusiastically from Murphy’s couch the next morning, I unloaded his new bed without ceremony before facing my drive south. With the city behind me, I smiled to myself.

~~~oOo~~~

Three of the chefs couldn’t commit to the hours we required, though what hours they had expected to be offered I couldn’t fathom. One didn’t speak any English and nobody could really work out what language he actually _did_ speak. Another said he ‘didn’t really like the feel of the place’ and then I was down to four. As I saw the faintest glimpse of Millie fading through the wall with a huge smile on her face, I wondered if it was actually me or the ghosts running the place, but I sensed I was finally left alone to face the remaining hopefuls. Two of them were fully qualified and the others, recent college leavers. They all seemed reasonably happy to work alternate weeks with the two students working as sous chefs. The youngsters were more than happy to make up their money as bartenders or servers when required and all that was needed before I made up my mind was to test out their skills.

“Right, I’d like each of you to draw up a weekly menu and price it accordingly. In the next week, I’ll expect you to cook an item from it for less than the cover price from locally sourced produce. You’ll be judged on the food’s presentation as well as the final state of my kitchen. I hope that at least two you can drive as it would be your regular job to go to the cash and carry when required. On our opening night, we’ll want finger food and lots of it, so ideas for that are already welcomed. It’s all there to play for, gentlemen, impress me and you might consider yourselves employed.”

The chefs all took themselves off, chattering like excitable sparrows. I sighed with relief, amazed at my previously unknown interviewing skills. If any of them were actually any good at cooking, for the next week, Bodie and I might eat like kings. In the meantime, I had a bone of my own to pick.

“Millicent, show yourself!”

The very air was quiet and I cursed the girl.

“Millie, here now!”

“Were you wantin’, me, Master Doyle?”

“You know damn well I was, now show yourself, girl!”

My eyes narrowed as her buxom frame emerged into view.

“Did I do wrong, Master Doyle?”

“You tell me! You were the one that got rid of five possible cooks before I’d even had chance to speak to them!”

“Not true, Squire! That foreign sod was no good to no bugger!”

“No, I’ll admit that the language barrier _would_ have been an issue with him. You put the shits up the rest of them, though didn’t you?”

“What _me_ , Squire?”

“Don’t take the piss, Millicent, please, what was up with ‘em?”

“Well, two had shifty eyes, one looked about ready to cry and the other only had eyes for gentlemen folk!”

“Eh? What was that last proclamation of wisdom all about? After what you must have seen and done over the years I’m sure the last thing you’d be worried about was a bloke eyeing up ‘gentlemen folk’?”

“That man’s eyes were undressin’ you, Master Doyle, robbing you of those ‘jean’ things you seem to favour coverin’ yer legs with. I can’t see Master Bodie being too fond of that notion can you, Squire?”

Millie had been born within the sound of Bow Bells and as the daughter of an Innkeeper, knew more about serving ale than Bodie and I could ever hope to learn. When her beloved father had died, she’d fallen foul of men who only wished to exploit her and only narrowly escaped with her life by scrambling aboard a carriage destined for Bournemouth. Running short of the fare by Totton, she was unceremoniously thrown from the wagon at Normansland. Her cunning survival instinct had led her to The House at Worlds End where she had brought the place down with her skills and personality. Her young life had been plagued and taken by syphilis, but she spent her last, freest years in a place she’d adored. I trusted her judgement without question and wondered who of the chefs had taken a shine to me. Deciding it didn’t really matter, I spent the time missing Bodie and hoping for his speedy return.

~~~oOo~~~

It was a blessing that the roads were clear, as busy thoughts were clouding my head and messing with my concentration. It had been fun returning to London and seeing our old friends, but the urgent longings I had for returning to Ray and the pub were almost palpable.

The light somehow never really reached the corners of the day. Combining breakfast and lunch, I dined at a service station, not expecting my tired partner to have considered catering for us. The hired removal van made Ray’s old workhorse feel like a steeplechaser and the last traces of the M27 seemed to go on forever. As I swept through the darkening sky towards the pub, I felt slightly guilty about arriving home so late. As the creaking sign greeted me home, I forgot all about that thought, wondering what Ray had been doing all day. As he was stood awaiting my arrival, his arms severely crossed, it obviously wasn’t to be too long before I found out.

“Nice of you to turn, up, Bodie, you _do_ realise that van will need emptying tomorrow and that it’s got to be back before twelve?”

“Hello to you too, Sunshine, sorry, I was feeling decidedly lacklustre this morning.”

“Oh no matter, come inside and get yourself warmed up and fed.”

“Oh, you’re cooking?”

“Well the microwave will be so don’t get too excited and we’ve got some sort of plum duff donated by well-wisher ‘Barbara’ for afters if you fancy it.”

“Ray. I could eat a scabby donkey as long as Primrose doesn’t get to of hear of it, but firstly I’d rather feast my eyes and lips on you, come here I’ve missed you.”

After we’d greeted each other properly, we shut the night outside and went in search of our supper.

“So how was Murph?”

"Oh much the same as ever, everyone sends their love, even Macklin.”

“As long as they send us their custom in the summer, that’ll do me. Did you manage to offload that old bed of mine?”

“Yep it’s all done, how did it go with the interviews?”

“Well we’ve hopefully got four new chaps starting, two chefs who are willing to work seven days on seven off and two lads happy to work under them and fill in on bar work.”

“Well done, you _have_ been busy, what are the chefs like?”

“Well Alain’s French but not French enough to be really annoying and speaks more understandable English than Rolf who’s from Glasgow.”

“The Frenchman does know we’re not La Sorbonne, I hope?”

“Yeah, says he’s happy enough doing basic British fare. He’s just finishing up a temporary contract with The Happy Eater, so we might even be a step up for him.”

“And you could understand the Scotsman well enough?”

“I decided anything I couldn’t quite catch could be written down.”

“Excellent thinking, Raymond old son and the youngsters, they’re okay are they?”

“Yep, both seem keen enough. I’m getting all of ‘em to pen some basic menus and cook our meals for the rest of the week so as long as they’re not _too_ disastrous we should have the kitchen and table service well covered.”

“Well that’s good seeing as we’ve only got two weeks to go before opening night.”

“Oh God, don’t remind me. There’s still so much to bloody do!”

“None of which can be really achieved tonight, my sweet, so I suggest that as soon as we’ve polished off Barbara’s plum duff, you take me to bed and show me how much you’ve been missing me.”

“It’s only been twenty four hours, Bodie!”

“Yeah, a long twenty four hours though, wasn’t it?”

“You’re quite a persuasive talker when you wanna be, aren’t you?”

Ray looked at me cheekily before bursting into a joyous smile.

~~~oOo~~~

The following morning was not particularly conducive to furniture moving. The South of England rarely experienced extremities of weather, but being surrounded by trees, when a storm decided to set in we soon became aware of it. Rain streamed down our window in dark, depressing ribbons and the wind whipped around the building as if it was trying to break in. Unless we wished to pay for another day’s hire however, we had to get the panel van cleared out and returned to its depot. Leaving the warm bed wasn’t easy, but with a few prods, curses and insults, Bodie and I finally dressed to face the day and our fate.

Ignoring our grumbling stomachs, we decided to face the immediate unwanted task with strong intentions of turning our fryers on the moment we got home. It was actually quite fascinating looking through the pile of garbage that we’d acquired in London. We both needed our clothes of course, but I was surprised at my own whoops of joy at discovering my old LP’s. Having a jukebox on tap had caused me to forget them and I marvelled at how quickly our old life was being pushed aside.

It was all so easy to spot small items and suddenly get lost in the past and even though I saw photograph albums which I could have poured over for hours, I kept a sharp eye on the clock and by ten thirty, the van had been emptied. We chivvied our paltry belongings into the snug before leaving for our dismal journey across the heath. When the hire vehicle was safely delivered, it seemed for once that Bodie actually appreciated the dubious comforts of my transport, rubbing his hands together and holding them before the heating grill.

“Christ, Ray do you think we’ll ever be warm again?”

“Didn’t take much to turn you into a townie, did it? Bet you never asked that when you were on ‘Special Op’s’, did you?”

“Oh shut up, Ray I’m retired from all that and that bloody lorry was sodding cold, all right?”

Taking pity on my shivering partner, I cut him some slack.

“Okay I’ll admit, we got soft in London. It was all surrounded by buildings which kept the worst of the weather out. Bit different here, but it’s not the Arctic, we’ll survive. I’ve got bacon, mushrooms and the freshest bread awaiting that griddle. By the time you’ve adorned your fluffy socks, I’ll have cooked up a breakfast good enough to chase out yer chills.”

It wasn’t the easiest drive home. The storm showed no signs of abating and if anything the open stretches made it feel even worse. I was on the constant lookout for wildlife and though we could just about make out the odd pony resolutely turning it’s back to the wind, most animals had sensed the oncoming maelstrom and made for the shelter of the woods.

  

It was a relief to finally turn into the car park, but the expected peaceful quiet of our kitchen after the roar of the wild weather around us was not immediately forthcoming. I would have been highly annoyed at the unforeseen invasion had it not been for the wonderful smells which were coming from the fryers, but it appeared we had visitors. As someone who had agreed to entertain the public for a living, I would just have to deal with it. Billy sat on the bench looking dejected and wet. Flanking him on either side were two young ladies, one who looked dressed for an office job and the other all dolled up for a disco. A man in a suit sat beside the preparation table and another in a football strip, was slumped on the settle. In the centre of the space one of my young hopefuls, Liam, appeared to be commanding proceedings by frying up the biggest breakfast I‘d ever laid eyes on. A couple of ghosts were floating about though heaven knew why. To my knowledge, they didn’t need to eat, but food seemed to attract them like flies.

I looked at what had been a serene haven only a few hours before. All I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but all eyes had immediately fallen on us expectantly and I dearly hoped that I could remember where we’d put the aspirins.

~~~oOo~~~

The last thing we’d expected after the difficult journey back across the heath was a kitchen full of people and I could sense that Ray was less than impressed. He’d driven admirably through by far the worst of the weather and taking pity on him, I decided to take on the crowd myself.

“Well, we weren’t expecting a welcoming committee, but good morning everyone!”

Everybody started talking at once and I had to call for calm several times over. Finally I got them to shut them up enough to be able to make some introductions, beginning with the cook.

“Right young man, I’m Bodie, and who might you be?”

“Hello, Mr Bodie, I’m Liam and I came to drop off my menu plan for Mr Doyle. Your man Billy over there suggested that you might be wanting a late breakfast when you got back, so I thought I might use my initiative, like. Don’t worry, I haven’t used all your ingredients, well not _quite_ all of them, anyhow. How do you like your eggs?”

“Oh, as they come, thanks, Liam and well done on your initiative. Let’s hope your cooking comes up to scratch! Now, Billy, do you know any of these other people at all?”

“Oh yes, Sor, Mr Just Bodie, Sor, this here’s Molly’s sister Holly. You remember me mentioning Molly don’t yers? Well Holly here wants to follow in her sisters footsteps.”

I looked at the young woman who appeared prim enough to be a secretary. She was certainly easy on the eye though she looked as terrified as a scalded cat.

“Well, hello, Holly, so you want to go to veterinary college too, do you?”

“Oh no of _course_ not, Sir, I want to be a barmaid!”

I could sense the laughter bubbling up in my partner as I struggled to keep a straight face.

“And you, young lady?” I asked of the other female who looked as unlike a secretary as you could possibly get,

“Oh, sorry, Mr Just Bodie, Sor, that there’s Julie and that bloke’s Les.”

“Well thanks for that, Billy perhaps, we’ll let people answer for themselves now shall we?”

“Oh yes, Sor. Mr Just Bodie, Sor. Right Julie, Les, Mr Just Bodie says that you should answer for yourselves now. I’m sorry, Mr Just Bodie, but I don’t know who that other bloke is, so I don’t.”

“Okay, Billy, well never mind. Go and get yourself a nice cup of tea from that pot I see that Liam’s brewed and try and get yourself warmed up. Now where was I? Oh yes, Julie. What can we do for you Julie?”

“Well I was wantin’ me old job back if that’s alright with you’s?”

“Oh, you’ve worked here before, then?”

“Yep, right up until old Harry Nails died. Well includin’ when old Harry died if truth be told. It was me that first found his body! ‘Orrible it was too!”

“Oh good heavens, how very … disturbing for you. Are you sure you’d still want to work here after a shock like that?”

“Yeah, _course_! It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d seen Harry laid out, but I s’pose it was the last …”

My bladder was aching with the need to laugh but somehow I managed to keep control of my emotions.

“So, Les, what can we do for you?”

“Well I was just up here to see about the darts team. I’m the chairman of the darts team. You _will_ still be having the darts team?”

“Oh, Les, I’m _sure_ we will be. If you’re happy to carry on in the chair, we’ll hold a meeting at your convenience.”

“Right, that’s settled then. I said to them, they can’t run the pub without the darts team, I said. A few thought you might want to do away with it, but you can’t have the pub without the darts team.”

Finally I faced the suited man in the corner who nobody seemed to know.

“Sorry, Sir, last but not least, who might you be?”

“My name is Philip Roach and _I_ am a Public Health Inspector.”

“You’re a _what_? Has someone made a complaint about us or something, as you do know we haven’t even opened yet?”

“Ah but you’ve applied for a licence to serve food and alcohol on these premises. You must be inspected, Mr Bodie, everyone is inspected, but it’s completely pot luck as to _when_ you’ll be inspected. I’ve taken the liberty of making an initial assessment already.”

“Oh you have, have you? Well I hope your findings are favourable as I don’t take particularly well to people poking about in my home without prior arrangement or consent.”

“So far my findings have indeed been satisfactory, Mr Bodie. Your sign creaks a bit, which might constitute a nuisance to your neighbours if it fails my decibel reader test, but everything else seems in order so far.”

“Seeing as my nearest neighbours are over five miles away, I think they’ll just about cope, Mr Roach. Now I _do_ hope you’ll join us all for breakfast to see that we can produce a hearty meal?”

“Oh! Well yes, I suppose I _could_ stay. It would certainly tick another of my boxes if your food proved to be of decent quality.”

“That’s settled then. Liam, have you enough food to feed eight?”

“Oh YES, Sir!”

“Excellent! Well we’ll just change out of our wet gear and then come and join you.”

As Ray and I proceeded to leave the kitchen, I loudly whispered to Liam,

“Cook like you’ve never cooked before, boy!”

He didn’t reply, simply giving me a huge wink.

An hour later, none of us really wanted to move. There was something truly magical about newly laid eggs and though the mushrooms Ray had bought from the farm shop were good, they were nothing compared to the ones that Liam had freshly picked from the field.

It was a relief to finally usher our guests out of the door. Even Mr Roach left with a smile on his face and a half mentioned promise of a good report. We’d agreed to trial the two girls as barmaids, meet with Les regarding his precious darts team and take Liam on as a definite. Billy was thrilled that some goat pellets had been delivered and took himself off to god knows where, and finally we were left alone.

“Call me old if you like, but do you fancy a couple of hours back in bed, Ray?”

“As long as it’s for nothing more energetic than sleeping, I absolutely love the idea!”

“I’m so knackered, I’m too tired to even raise a smile at the moment!”

“Christ, I’m glad I’m not the only one!”

“To bed it is then, let’s take the opportunity while we still can!”

The weather raged on, but with the radiators warmed, our bedroom was cosy and welcoming. As usual, it was always a joy laying down next to Ray, even if my libido had given up and fled for the day. I mused before we slept, sharing my thoughts with the only one who knew me well enough to appreciate them.

“So, Molly and Holly. Do you think their mother might be called Polly?”

“Yeah and they’ve probably got a posh brother who goes by the name of Ollie! And I just bet he’s got a collie!”

“Ray, you know what you are, don’t you?”

“Oh do tell …”

“You’re my golly of course!”

“And you’ll be spoiling your chances of a decent jolly when we wake, if you don’t shut up, ‘Just Bodie’.”

Taking the hint, I shut up, smiled broadly and slept.

~~~oOo~~~

It was a frantic fortnight. All of the cooks had now submitted their menus and prepared very satisfactory meals for us. Surprisingly, Alain and Rolf seemed to take to one another immediately and were already planning their shopping trips. Gary, the other youngster we had taken on, seemed as interested in front of house duties as he was in the kitchen and happily practiced his waiting skills on us.

To guard against any major disappointments, I’d dispatched Bodie to post flyers advertising our Grand Opening to every nearby establishment we could think of. Julie reckoned we had nothing to worry about and that people would come from far and wide, but my more cautious side wanted to be sure.

On a cold Wednesday afternoon, we welcomed Les into our snug and learned more than we would ever wish to know about the local darts league. Bodie seemed rather keen on it all until he discovered that the previous landlord had been responsible for the hiring and driving of the minibus to all the away matches. We haggled with Les until it was finally decided that a pool of suitably insured drivers would all take turns at the wheel.

I was slightly concerned about how we would fill the pub on away match nights, as Les assured me that all the players were confirmed regulars. Apparently however, I had to prepare myself for a deluge of people on home nights and that both teams would expect feeding after their retrospective games. I deferred to Julies experience on this and made a mental note to ask her to discuss darts night with the chefs.

Apart from the sports kit which seemed to be Les’ permanent attire, the meeting had all been very formal and proper and it was obvious that Les took his role very seriously. Personally I was dying to try out a new light ale that the rep had dropped off and discuss its merits with Bodie and willed the meeting to end. Just as we were ushering Les towards the door, he suddenly gave a startled cry.

“The boards! By god, has anyone checked the boards?”

I looked at Bodie and we both shrugged.

“The _dartboards_ , man, they’ve got to be in top condition before we invite the competition in!”

I looked towards the shabby looking thing in the corner. Bodie had aimed a few arrows at it without complaint and apart from that I hadn’t really taken much notice of it.

“Not _that_ old thing, Mr Doyle, that’s just the practice board. The match boards are underneath the pool table.”

Feeling rather foolish, I just about stopped myself from peering under the table certain that I hadn’t seen any dartboards lingering there, but fortunately, Les was too panicked to notice. He fumbled about until he somehow found a secret latch which when pulled, revealed an equally secret compartment on which lay two pristine Winmau dart boards. Les looked down on them in reverence and I could once again feel hysteria brewing inside me.

“There are only a handful of people who know the whereabouts of these boards, gentleman. It’s _all_ our responsibility to make sure it stays that way! We get them both out on match nights so that if the competition have any objections to one, then we can happily offer them the other. Sometimes, it comes down to the flip of a coin as to which one we use. Anyway, I best get on, I’ve got to start my pools round at six. Take it you chaps, do the football pools? I expect Pete Fosse will be in soon to discuss the bar billiards, Christ, I’d better go, it’s nearly quarter to!”

With that, to our immense relief, he was gone and we were finally left in peace. Bodie obviously found the whole episode as exhaustingly hilarious as I did.

“God, he’s bit full on isn’t he! Do you think he’s ex secret service what with his hidden compartments concealing the ‘dartboards that never shall be seen’ and all that?”

“I wonder if he’s an ex-league division one wannabee. Doesn’t he feel the cold going round in shorts and football socks all the time?”

“I think the alcohol in his aftershave must keep him warm. And what was that all that about bar billiards? Surely you need a special sort of table for that?”

“And what pray tell is wrong with the one you’ve got, Sire?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, the unexpected arrival of the ghosts still catching me out on occasion.

“Oh, hello, Henry. Come here for heaven’s sake, that cravat looks as though it’s been slept in for centuries!”

The ancient silk felt papery beneath my fingers, but I soon had it righted enough to save Henry’s blushes. Image was everything to Henry and he would hate to appear any less than perfect. In his own mind, he was minor royalty, but his foolishness at the gaming tables and a glad eye for unsuitable women had lost him his fortune many times over. He was a boarding guest at The House at Worlds End when a bailiff’s musket ball took his life and now he flitted around the place like a faded butterfly kidding himself and trying to kid everyone else how important he’d once been. I had a particular fondness for his foppish ways which earned me total devotion in return.

“So bar billiards, that’s that funny game with all the pegs that stick up isn’t it, Henry?”

“Well the English version was called 'Bagatelle' of course and it didn’t have any pegs, but _I_ first played Russian Billiards in Paris and that is the truest origin of the game. I’ve often watched modern folk play their bar billiards however, and it appears to be an agreeable pastime.”

“So where do they play it? I can’t see a table anywhere.”

“You couldn’t see _me_ , at one time, Master Doyle and how wonderfully enriched your life has become since you could! Now allow me to demonstrate!”

I giggled at Henry and at Bodies moody condemnation of him and followed towards the corner table which was currently festooned with aged tourist brochures. Simply removing the plywood lid revealed the quirky old table in all its glory and we spent an interesting hour learning the basics of the game. It was far harder than it looked and Henry only finally disappeared when Holly turned up enquiring about her shift patterns. She proved to be a master of the game putting Bodie and I completely to shame. She looked far better in jeans and a punky t-shirt than she had in her ‘Miss Marple’ twinset and I was glad to see that she was starting to relax in our company. She participated in the light ale testing and we all spent a rather splendid evening testing it perhaps a little _too_ much. Eager to learn as much as she could in order to catch up with her counterpart Julie, Holly agreed to turn up for the draymen’s delivery the following morning. As she had almost matched me pint for pint I didn’t expect her presence for a minute.

~~~oOo~~~

It had been a lovely evening all in all. Les had proved to be a law almost to himself and even Henry had been good company in his overblown, poncey way.

With Ray’s vast experience of casual bar work and my written pass from The British Institute of Inn Keeping, we were more than capable of dealing with a simple beer delivery. This morning was a milestone however. It was hopefully the first of hundreds of times we would undergo this task, seeing our barrels and bottles safely ensconced into their new home. I just wished I had a slightly less muggy head with which to deal with the toil ahead. Annoyingly, Holly arrived at just after eight looking as fresh as a daisy closely followed by Alain and Rolf who really were showing _far_ too much enthusiasm for mere pub chefs. Ashamed at my awful mood, I sniped mercilessly at Ray until he bit back at me with bells on, making me feel a whole lot better.

The draymen were built like lumberjacks. Being furthest from their collection points of London, Southampton and then Ringwood, it was upsetting to learn that we would always be first on their delivery list with their liking of working back towards their depot throughout their day. If early morning deliveries were to be our fate however, I certainly wasn’t going to argue with them. It seemed that it was too early for them to accept breakfast, so I considered that a saving considering the size of them.

As the last of the kegs rolled down the ramps towards our cellar, I felt a sudden swell of pride in my chest, despite my awful hangover. Every drop of that precious liquid had been paid for with love. For all his loyalty, understanding and courage, there had been times when I’d treated Ray horribly. The fact that he’d trusted me enough to give us another go and then go into business with me spoke volumes about his character. Whether he knew it or not, he would always be the boss of me, the one I needed to keep me on the straight and narrow, the one I needed full stop.  I was already aware of the musings about our relationship. It was bound to happen in a small place, though I had no intentions of confirming the wonderings into truth, people could think what they liked and live with it. But as that final barrel rolled down and the trapdoor was closed on it, my emotions overtook my sense and I hugged my partner close enough to squeeze the very breath from him. We had our pub, we had our staff and we now had our beer. Even the burley draymen didn’t seem to want to deny us our moment, each of them coming and slapping us on the back like a couple of friendly grizzly bears.

By six o’clock, the countdown was on. We had twenty four hours before our opening night. We had enough food to please the armed forces. Our beer temperatures were perfect and it all tasted wonderful. The jukebox was stocked with the latest tastes from the hit parade. The staff were all primed and ready for action. Though Alain and Rolf had no official tasks as we were providing a buffet, they wouldn’t have missed the occasion for the world and I was silently glad of their stalwart support.

After gentle suggestions, Holly was dressing more like Julie, and Julie more like Miss Marple. The two girls looked wonderfully capable and were really starting to like each other.

Throughout my career, I’d been on stakeouts which had seemed less endless than that final twenty four hours. I’d been on peacekeeping missions which had been less stressful and in shootouts which had been less terrifying. Ray and I both tried to deny that we’d slept badly but our sheer adrenaline levels denied us any signs of tiredness.

At six o’clock on November the thirtieth, we opened our doors for the first time.

At six o’clock, nobody came.

By six thirty, we were greeting a few customers.

By seven o’clock we were packed to the rafters.

I had _no_ idea where all these people had hailed from, but was mightily pleased that Rolf and Alain were as happy to pull pints as they were to cook meals.

As I was drawing a Guinness, I looked over towards Ray, totally in his element chatting up a punter. I caught his eye and he smiled broadly at me and I knew we’d done right. We’d struck gold. The pub had chosen just us as we’d chosen each other.

I briefly wondered on that manic night if the pub had ever seen such a party, but according to the ghosts it surely had. We finally fell onto the benches with our collective staff, heaving sighs of relief and drinking brandy. Eventually even they magically melted away and Ray and I were left to our own devices.

We collapsed into bed, shedding what clothes we were able before sleep snatched us. As I closed my eyes for the final time that night, I thanked whatever higher being had made it all so. We’d survived guns, ghosts, Cowley and conventionalism. The future was ours to grab if only we could appreciate the past that our new home had to offer. We were in a special place in a special time. I knew how much I owed to be given this chance, and I hugged Ray extra tight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. A King Is Born

The following morning the alarm seemed to go off far too soon. We were still half dressed in our stale clothes and both of us smelt slightly of brandy. Time and tide waited for no man however and if we were ever to be open by eleven, we needed to be primped, primed and ready for action. It felt more likely that we might fly to the moon. Finally with an impressive show of heroism, Bodie tugged himself from the bed and made haphazardly towards the shower. The last time I had felt so exhausted, I’d been laying tarmac in Southern Ireland, but I had to admit that even the fading tang of brandy was preferable to the stench of bitumen.

After we’d half-heartedly performed our ablutions, we both approached the double wardrobe together. We’d never considered any sort of uniform for the staff or ourselves. Over the last few years, I’d been forced into jeans so stiff with dirt they stood up by themselves, combined with donkey jackets and safety boots. Somehow, Bodie had endured the polyester suits and polo shirts provided from the brewery. It was time to break the chains of employment. I looked at Bodie. Bodie looked at me. Together we grinned before diving into our clothes. I selected an olive green shirt of soft brushed cotton. It was old enough for Bodie to remember, but being one of the few quality items I possessed, belied its age admirably. The jeans I grabbed were even older and were almost worn through in some places, but fitted like a second, rather comforting skin. Bodie had always had an eye for clothes and though his chosen suit trousers and linen shirt were far from new, when dressed, he looked every bit the fashionable, genial host. Before we went down to face the day, we looked each other up and down appreciatively. The air of déjà vu wasn’t lost on us. Bodie and Doyle were back.

The bar was a disaster zone. Every surface was littered with dirty glasses, overflowing ashtrays and food remnants. Even though it was now December, I opened the windows to let the wintery air in, rolled up my sleeves and put myself to work. Amazingly, as I toiled through clearing the post party detritus, I sensed other shadowy bodies gathering alongside me doing the same. Within the hour, the whole place shone and we flopped as a collective before a keen Rolf who held up his utensils offering us all breakfast. I looked round with pride at our astonishing staff, a dedicated group of people who seemed for whatever reason to share the same vision that we did.

~~~oOo~~~

December was a punishing month. The darts and pool leagues started again in earnest. During the months of the pubs closure, our teams had valiantly held up their end by hosting matches in the local community centre which hadn’t pleased their rivals any, having no chef and no liquor licence. The House At Worlds End had an image to recover as its opponents were now laughing at the memories of having to supply their own sandwiches and cans of lager. Our chefs were run ragged on match nights and much to our delight were also getting a decent workout during the day. It was hard to tell if the newcomers were just coming to have a nose about or were actually our future bread and butter, but we seemed to send everyone away happily enough.

The true regulars soon made themselves known. At six every evening, Richard, Sean and Rodney haggled over their barstools even though they’d all been sitting in the same places for years. Sean would soon leave his in order to spend the rest of his evening with the dart board. As our star player, we didn’t discourage him. Rodney would then proceed to moan about his wife Miriam only occasionally interrupted by one of Richard’s intrepid stories. Richard apparently, had been a submariner. It soon became a matter of fact that it was only due to Richard and a few other bravely submerged souls that we won the war at all. A few times, Ray was stupid enough to call Richard on some of his facts and figures, but he soon learned the error of his ways. You didn’t question Richard’s version of our countries greatest conflict unless you had a  _lot_  of time on your hands.

By seven thirty each night, the couples would start to drift in. Many were from the horsey set which pleased Ray enormously as he was rather taken with horses. Donald Partridge MRCVS the local veterinary surgeon, was an expert in his field but as his field seemed to favour single malt whisky above animals, it was a relief to meet Billys ex-girlfriend Molly on the occasions she visited her mother. I certainly didn’t welcome the thought of Donald attempting to inject our donkey.

The bar billiards team were an odd lot. Their season didn’t commence until the new year, but they still regularly turned up as a collective. They were suspicious and watchful, reminding me of a bunch of amateur detectives looking for clues. They rarely used the billiards table, electing instead to suck on their soft drinks and mumble amongst themselves. If however, anyone else decided to partake in a game, they frowned and fretted for the entire match until it was over and they could all heave a sigh of relief.

We had three groups who had approached us with the relevant fees to privately hire our snug during the daytime. The Reading Group, The Christian Study Society and the Ladies Sewing Circle had all booked monthly slots for the following year. To our inane amusement, the three groups consisted of entirely the same bunch of women and one young man. They were conservative and solicitous when they made their bookings, but on their evenings out they were anything but. We soon learned that nobody partied quite as hard as a member of the Christian Study Society.

It was astounding how quickly we became embroiled in other people’s business. During our time in CI5 together, Ray and I had heavily relied on the facts presented to us as we saw them, but now we were starting to rather enjoy listening to snippets of gossip. It was all happening so quickly however, that it was soon apparent we were neglecting to take time for ourselves. Though heaving barrels about was a shock to my system after endless months in a sedentary job, I missed the fitness levels that the services had required of me. Though we found it incredibly hard to delegate, we made a point of trying to free up our mornings to take time for ourselves. The nearest thing to a health club was a council run affair, but it sported squash courts and a pool so we signed up and made ourselves regular features. Whilst I would never admit out loud that Ray’s vigour would  _always_  surpass my own, I always made a keen competitor of myself. Whilst any new recruits to CI5 might not have found us much of a challenge, it was good to revel in the simple art of movement whilst in the pleasure of each other’s company.

~~~oOo~~~

It was on a rather chilly winter morning that my worst fears were confirmed. I’d suspected there were underlying issues that I’d been steadfastly choosing to ignore for some time, but now those issues were biting me rather sharply in the arse and I knew I couldn’t ignore them any longer. Bodie was polishing the beer engine as I re-entered the bar and was obviously surprised to see me.

“Hello! I thought you’d taken yourself off to the farmers market for the morning?”

“I had, but there’s a problem. We really need to talk, Bodie.”

Bodie didn’t really know whether to appear amused or serious and settled for somewhere between the two, drawing me a coffee from the machine.

“Come on then, Sunshine, what’s the problem?”

“Well, I’m really sorry, Bodie and I know it’s the last thing we need, but …”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad, wassup?”

“Okay, I’ll just come out and say it. The van’s fucked. The clutch’s been on the way out for months and now I can’t get it into reverse at all. The MOT’s due next month and a new clutch could be another hundred notes on top of whatever else we might need to spend out on it. I think we need to replace my van, Bodie.”

“Oh thank God for that, I was starting to think I might have to have you surgically removed from the damn thing!”

“What, you don’t mind the fact that we might have to buy a new car?”

“No of course not, we budgeted for one didn’t we?”

“Well … yeah I know, but …”

“Ray, I had to drive three miles out of my way last week because I couldn’t get that bloody thing in reverse. We can’t spend the rest of our lives just driving forwards, you know!”

“Oh, no, I guess, it’s just I’ve never had to buy a new car before, I’m not used to that sort of extravagance.”

“Ray,  _sweetheart_ , you’ve taken on a business mortgage to run a public house. You still possess a valid firearms licence. You dwell in a timber framed building with a bunch of people who ceased breathing a few hundred years ago. Above all, you live with me, the most insane person you know. What, pray tell me, after all that, is so scary about buying a car? As it happens, I went over all the accounts yesterday and know more or less what we have to spend on the much needed vehicle. You’re welcome to check if you so desire, I won’t be offended, but the sort of figure we’re looking at this is this …”

Bodie passed me a note with a figure on it which greatly surpassed my expectations. The van was one of the more expensive of my privately acquired vehicles, though a new clutch for it would vastly exceed its original cost. My better modes of transport had been provided by agencies who easily wrote off such expenditure and suddenly buying a proper car seemed like a very grown up thing to be doing. I was heartily pleased that Bodie seemed to have a vague idea what he was talking about.

“Right, first off, we need to have an idea of our wants and needs.”

Suddenly remembering how much I loved Bodie, I was alerted to some ill-timed wants and needs of my own, but he was all business so I forced myself to focus.

“It needs to be reliable, economical and useful. We’re not running about after villains anymore, so it doesn’t have to be the fastest off the chocks, but at the same time we don’t want a granny wagon. We deal with a lot flooding round here, so a four wheeled drive wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. Thoughts so far?”

“Um, are we thinking new or second hand?”

“I dunno, what think you? What are the pros and cons of either?

“Well it’s well known that new cars lose a few hundred from their value as soon as they leave the forecourt. I’ve  _never_  bought a brand new car, yet I’ve lived to tell the tale. On the other hand, with an older car you might be taking on other people’s problems and you might not get some of the good bits like a warranty.”

“A warranty’s only as good as the wide boy that’s selling it to you, Ray. Do we know enough about used motors between us to spot a decent one?”

“I’m no expert, but I’ve done okay by myself so far. Our money would certainly go further.”

“Okay, second hand it is then, what sort of size do we want?”

“Well I’m buggered if I’m going to buy the mini bus that the darts team are secretly hoping for, but at the same time, something that will transport a sick goat to the vet or an emergency barrel back from the brewery might be handy. Can I ask just one thing?”

“Of course you can, you daft sod, what is it?”

“Is one car enough? We’ve always had our own transport before, we’ve never exactly shared.”

“Well we never really lived long term together before, did we? Let’s face it, we’ve been sharing the van happily enough, we’ve either gone out together in it or one has gone out whilst the other’s stayed home. If we got just the one car, we could spend more on keeping it well serviced so it shouldn’t break down. There are always taxis if we have any emergencies and more than enough locals who would help us out if we needed them to.”

“Yep, I agree. I’d rather spend the money on one expensive car than two cheaper ones.”

“I’ll tell you what, I know we haven’t really got any plans to holiday or anything, but if we have any extra in the kitty this time next year and don’t fancy going away, we always get a bike between us, or one each if we can stretch to it.”

It warmed my heart to think that Bodie was considering my desires. A seasoned biker he may well have been, but it was me who loved motorbikes with a passion rather than a simple mode of transport. For now however, we had to consider all things sensible and as Bodie was warming to his subject, I was compelled to concentrate.

“Another thing, we’re businessmen now, Ray, surely our vehicle should at least reflect our new status to a certain extent?”

“Well I think the Rolls is a little way off yet, Bodie!”

“What would you choose then, dearest?”

“Um, well what’s the criteria again? Reliable and practical without being a ‘granny wagon’? Well I’ve got an idea, but you might laugh …”

“I’ve got an idea too but I don’t wanna piss all over yours if we’re miles apart. I’ll tell you what, I’ll grab the order pad and a couple of pens and we can write down our suggestions and whittle it down from there. Hopefully we decide on something resembling a compromise?”

It was rarely that Bodie and I  _really_  disagreed on anything, but his idea was a good one if only to pass a few moments of spare time. I felt like a schoolboy in a spelling test as I shielded my list away from Bodie’s prying eyes, but finished my writings with a flourish.

“That’s it then, Ray, you’ve done your list?”

“I have.”

“It’s not a very  _long_  list is it?”

“You didn’t specify how long it had to be, have you done yours?”

“I have.”

“Well yours didn’t really take  _that_  long, did it?”

“My idea, my rules, shall we go for the big reveal?”

“Okay, if we must, but PROMISE you won’t laugh!”

“I won’t laugh, Ray,” Bodie said, chuckling already.

It was a relief when his neatly printed suggestion mirrored my own scrawled proposal. The search was on. We were about to officially join the country set at the same time as reluctantly attempting to grow up. Bodie and Doyle were looking to buy their first ever Range Rover.

~~~oOo~~~

The countryside is a funny place. Our nearest pub rivals were four miles away and the nearest beyond that, five. We all still suspiciously eyed each other like the closest of neighbours on match nights and it soon became apparent that there was a certain etiquette that we were expected to follow. Christmas, Boxing Day and New Year celebrations were cordially shared between the three establishments meaning that in our first year as publicans, our staff and ourselves could take New Year’s Eve off. After the whirlwind of taking on the business and leaving our old lives behind, this news was not wholly disappointing. Neither Ray nor myself had ever really had the time or inclination to make preparations for Christmas before and I was finding the whole idea rather alien. Ray had occasionally talked to me of festivities past but the season meant little to me, my own family somewhat lacking in the required cheer. I had no idea how to go about decorating a seventeenth century pub nor anywhere else for Christmas and was constantly astounded at the gradually appearing adornments which Ray seemed to be supplying. It was only when I spied the ghost boy Seth lighting some beautifully placed church candles that I twigged my resourceful partner was probably getting some spiritual help.

I felt slightly guilty putting so much onto our staff, but they were still eager to please and were paid well enough, so our car hunt started in earnest. We scoured the local papers like men possessed. After much tyre kicking, bartering and trying to talk in Hampshire accents, we finally exchanged an exorbitant amount of our savings for a dark green seven seat Range Rover. It was demure and practical enough to be respectable, whilst at the same time big and shiny enough to be sexy. We felt as displaced driving it as we had been Cowley’s Granada, but it was ours and we loved it with a passion as soon as the keys became ours. Though we longed to trash our new beauty through ‘The Godforsaken Stinking Swamp’, we had bigger matters at hand. Christmas was now upon us. Neither of us had expert knowledge of the festive season and we’d depend heavily on our staff if we were to pull the whole thing off.

~~~oOo~~~

Though I tried not to show it, I felt sorry for Bodie in some ways.  I’d long forgiven him for past indiscretions though I knew he’d never forgive himself for the feelings of hurt he thought I still harboured. I knew he shouldered a wealth of guilt for buying the pub, especially on days that were so busy they made our jobs in CI5 seem like a lark, but our trade had grown rapidly and we had no time to rest on our laurels.

Some weird county tradition had elected us to host the Eve Christmas festivities. I wasn’t quite sure what I made of pandering to local lore and fully intended to have a serious meeting with our opponents about it in the new year. For now however, we had to concentrate on our current situation and that meant making preparations for December the twenty fourth.

I suspected that Bodie had scant experience of the festive season from the little he’d shared. Though he’d occasionally accompanied me on my seasonal visits North, during all our years in CI5, he’d always elected to work throughout the Christmas period. I tried therefore to make the whole thing easier on Bodie, surreptitiously buying strands of tinsel and eyeing up surrounding fir trees. My efforts were paltry however to those of the ghosts who seemed to have a natural flair for interior decor. Every morning I came downstairs to discover a new bit of greenery tastefully arranged and soon their efforts put my cheap baubles to shame. We spent our days arranging meat raffles ordering turkeys and rolling in countless kegs of beer. It was exhausting work but I was determined that if this was to be Bodies first proper Christmas, it would be one that he'd never forget.

~~~oOo~~~

 At ten minutes to midnight I looked out with pride at the amassed crowd before us. It had been a risk applying for an extension, after all these people all had their own Christmas to rush home to but none had shown the slightest interest in leaving. I was just about to ring the bell when Billy rushed up to me stilling my hand.

“Mr Just Bodie, Sor, I need yers, it’s Gypsy, Sor, she’s back and she’s in a bad way, so she is!”

As usual I had little idea what Billy was going on about, so I nodded him towards Ray who seemed to have acquired a natural aptitude for understanding the bloke. As I attempted to clear glasses at the same time as exchanging glad tidings with our departing customers, I watched Ray from the corner of my eye, only to see him grow more and more agitated. It was when he strode into the crowd and grabbed Molly that I knew Billy’s problem had somehow become ours and with gushing promises of overtime, I quickly ensconced Rolf and Liam to the bar to see our clientele away and start on the clean-up. Still having no idea what the issue was and even less who ‘Gypsy’ might be, I followed Billy, Ray and Molly until it became apparent that we were headed for Primroses barn. I was resigned to whatever might await us as simply nothing about this whole place could surprise me anymore.

As we entered the dimly lit shed, Billy roughly grabbed my arm and pointed to a ragged looking heap which shook and shivered within a pile of thick straw. Molly sprang into action, immediately showing that her education wasn’t going to waste.

“Go get hot water and some towels, Billy and fetch my haversack, it’s in the pub somewhere, quick man, for she hasn’t got long!”

Billy took off like a streak of lightning and having alerted me to the fact that we now seemed to have a ‘situation’, I demanded some sort of knowledge.

“Molly, can you tell me what the heck is going on in our barn please?

“That’s Gypsy. She was Harry Nails’ dog. She cleared off after he died and we all thought she must surely be dead herself and she soon will be by the look of her. I rather get those puppies out of her before she is though!”

I suddenly recognised the shaggy pile as being canine as Billy returned with much of our best linen before tearing off again in pursuit of our kettle. With all the reassuring competence of making a fine vet, Molly calmly took control rearranging the poor pathetic creature in an attempt to make it more comfortable. All in all, Ray looked completely distraught.

“Christ, Molly, is she really gonna die?”

“She’s not a young dog, Ray and it looks like she’s been living rough since she took off. Whelping takes it out of the healthiest of animals and she surely isn’t that. Our best attempt is to try and save the pups.”

With that, the sad lump within the straw gave a huge shudder and people all around me stared on in awe. I watched on in horrified fascination never having been present at the birth of any creature before. When faced with the result of the poor dog’s labours, I was rather glad I hadn’t. The awful looking dollop which had been deposited in a bloody mess on our shed floor looked like something from a horror film. Its loving mother gave it a half-hearted lick before never moving again. Molly did lots of unspeakable things to the mother creature before pronouncing it dead and announcing its creation to be the only one expected. Ray, Billy and Molly were all in tears for some reason but I just felt completely nauseous. I missed the next few minutes of frenetic activity due to my dry heaves. It was only when a warm, wet bundle was dropped into my lap and I was instructed to take care of it that I truly fell in love for the second time in my life. A small bottle was thrust into my hand and instructions briskly issued to me.

“Try to get him to take it all, Bodie, it’s all the milk I could get from poor Gyp and he needs the colostrum it contains. We’re going to need a lot more milk, Billy will have to see what he can get from the nanny goats.”

My slippery bundle blindly searched out the smell of the bottle gradually stretching out his new limbs like a rather bloodied hermit crab.

~~oOo~~~

I never saw ‘Poor Gyp’ again. Billy took the pitiful creature away to dispose of and I thanked some higher being that he had chosen our pub to hang around. Bodie seemed enamoured with the new arrival however.

I helped the others calm the rest of our unsettled animals before turning my mind to what to do with the ugliest puppy I had ever seen.

Julie and Molly were obviously several steps ahead of me as I found them in my bedroom having rifled through the wardrobes. To my absolute horror, they’d made a rather splendid looking dog bed from my very favourite checked woollen shirt. Just as I was about to protest strongly, Bodie walked quietly in, carrying the new arrival. He gently placed the bloodied lump into the depths of what had been my most treasured garment and which I knew I would never wear again.

We were left with various containers of foul smelling milk, instructions aplenty and finally peace. We still had the bars to close down before we could sleep and now may well have to feed this new creature should it demand it. There were definitely days that I missed getting beaten to a pulp, shot at and bombed.

~~~oOo~~~

 The bar was empty of people when we finally went downstairs. The whole place was chaotic but nothing we hadn’t seen before. It was three o’clock in the morning and I was heartily glad that we had no plans to prepare the place for Boxing Day. As a gift to our staff they were now all on leave until the twenty seventh so Ray and I had a lot of cleaning to do before then. I couldn’t have cared less however. I had just witnessed the miracle of birth for the first time in my life which had left me with a heady sense of Joie de vivre.

“So we’ve got our own pub dog now then, Ray.”

“Well we have if it survives and if it doesn’t I’ve lost the use of a perfectly good jacket!”

“Oh, Ray don’t be such a misery, it’s Christmas and it was way past time you were ditching that coat anyway. It must have gone out of fashion at least ten years ago and that’s if it was ever in!”

“Well I liked it! It was warm and durable and has seen me through a lot of years!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I’ll buy you a nice new jacket with all the lovely profit we made tonight, but in the meantime, we’ve got a puppy to name!”

“Go on then wise guy, hit me with it, what exactly are you planning to call the new dog?”

“Well he was born at Christmas so there’s no contest really, we have to call him ‘Jesus’.”

Ray spluttered on the pint of Foxes he’d just drawn himself.

“Don’t be RIDICULOUS, Bodie, you can’t call a dog Jesus!”

“Why not, it’s a simple enough name, he’d soon learn it.”

“You just CANNOT call a dog Jesus, it must surely be blasphemous or bad luck or something and if you went out in the field calling ‘Jesus’ all over the place, people would surely start to thing you’d turned.”

“Well I didn’t think you still believed in all that religious caper but if it’s that important to you, then  _you_  think of something!”

“I don’t think we should even be thinking about a name. Its chances of survival are minimal as it is so I wouldn’t start getting too attached to it.”

“He’s been any only pup in a warm safe place for months and he’s now in a warm safe bedroom with a bellyful of food. Molly seems to think he has every chance and even if he  _does_  die, everyone deserves a name, Ray.”

“Oh go on then, if you must, think of another name for it that’s  _anything_  but ‘Jesus.”

“I don’t need to think, Ray, turn the speakers up a bit if you would.”

There was so much money left in the jukebox that the thing would probably be still playing into the New Year unless it was turned off.

“Tell me, Ray, what can you hear?”

“’Love Me Tender’, Bodie though if you’ve got any inclinations in that direction you can forget ‘em ‘cos I’m completely knackered.”

“Well we can talk about that, but listen to who’s singing the song, Ray. If we can’t name him after the King of Heaven, perhaps we can name him after the king of rock and roll. How do you feel about that?”

“Um, indifferent to be honest.”

“That’s settled then. I hereby name our new charge, ‘Elvis’!”

Ray sighed dramatically before we swiftly shut down for the night. Upstairs, Elvis was softly snoozing in a jacket- cum-dog bed which would last many years past anyone’s expectations. The radiant warmth and gentle lighting quickly persuaded Ray that he was not as knackered as first presumed and we greeted the festive season in the sweetest way possible.

 

 


	5. All A Bit Of A Ball Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life isn't always a bed of roses ...  
> Warning of major character illness (cancer).

Elvis grew like a weed. When his head reached Bodie’s waist I was worried that he might actually be some sort of mutant creature rather than a dog. An unofficial book had been run on his patronage. The distinct absence in the bar of our neighbour Ned, owner of the largest Irish wolfhound I’d ever seen, gave me the slightest clue.

Bodie suddenly had a new best pal, as Elvis followed him everywhere. At night time however, the hairy beast turned his complete devotion to me. Having a third bed mate completely ruined my love life. On the odd occasion that Bodie and I had enough energy to be amorous, we performed our tricks to the sounds of blood curdling howls from the other side of a closed door.

Though the mornings were sunnier, it was cold for May. Bodie still hadn’t got out of his daily habit of making up the fire and plenty of people were still happy to gather themselves around it of an evening. I wondered if I might be sickening for something. We’d both been lucky enough to avoid the flu the first time it had made its rounds, but there were still a few bugs going about and I definitely felt out of sorts. It wasn’t long of course before Bodie noticed and started clucking around me like a panicked hen.

“You really don’t look right, Ray, why don’t you take a few days off, mate?”

“Because we’ve got a pub to run in case you haven’t noticed, Bodie, I’m not going to let an attack of the sniffles get to me!”

“We’ve got a pub to run and plenty of capable staff to help run it. There’s not a single one of our lot that couldn’t cope with the whole place on their own if they had to, so I think between the seven of us we’d just about cope with you taking a few days out. _And,_ I didn’t even realise you even had any sniffles _,_ you just look completely washed out. And, what’s _more_ , you’ve lost weight. You’re not on another one of those faddy diets of yours are you?”

“No of course I’m not and it’s called ‘healthy eating’, and it’s not ‘faddy’, you’d do well to try it sometime, Bodie!”

Bodie looked crestfallen and I cursed my sudden unkindness.

“Oh, Bodie, I’m sorry. Look I’m just so bloody irritable I don’t know what to do with myself at the moment and you’re right, p’raps I should have a day or two off, it might make me a bit more sociable.”

“So what’s wrong, Ray? What’s irritating you? Is there anything I can do to help? Do you think you should maybe visit the doctor?”

“The best thing you can do is to stop fussing, Bodie, you know damn well how well that goes down with me. Look I just feel a bit achy that’s all and damn itchy. I’m thinking I might get rid of the Persil and buy some Daz instead, perhaps I’ve gone allergic?”

“I’ve seen you scratching and I’ll tell you what, Ray, it better not be bloody Elvis! I don’t care if this IS a seventeenth century building, if that dog’s bought fleas in here, he’s getting dragged straight down to Neds sheep dip for a damn good dunking!”

I smiled, just imagining Bodie trying to wrestle Elvis anywhere near water and picturing who’d end up the wettest.

“No need to worry, Bodie, Elvis gets treated for ticks and fleas with the rest of the livestock. Can you imagine Billy letting any critters feast off him?”

“Oh shut up, Ray you’ve got me itching now! Bloody hell where’s that long ruler of yours, I’m itching right down the middle of my back now and I’m buggered if I can reach it!”

I’m afraid that when I really start to laugh, I’m rarely much help to Bodie and this was threatening to become such an occasion. I tried to explain through tears of mirth that the ruler he sought was in the office which was obviously a step too far as he grabbed the fireplace poker nearly crowning himself with it. Thinking better of it, he scrabbled around finally settling on a twiggy bit of kindling which when somehow inserted under his shirt, seemed to bring about the relief he craved.

I was almost incoherent after this latest display. Seeing my big, butch partner at the mercy of a simple itch was almost too much to bear and my sudden explosion of hysterics made me feel ten times better. As I finally wiped the last of the tears, I desperately tried to contain any sudden escaping giggles as I started to open up. It simply wouldn’t do for our customers to think I’d gone _completely_ mad.

~~~oOo~~~

I was worried about Ray. After the May-Li affair, medics had told him to always get his yearly flu jab, but I had no idea if he’d kept up the regime. Whilst neither of us made good patients, I at least, was now willing to admit when I was ill. I’d spent too many years suffering in silence at the whim of some or other commanding officer who couldn’t give a toss for my welfare. I also knew that if it was me suffering, Ray would be pottering around mopping my brow, even donning a nurse’s uniform if my heart so desired it.

The thought made me smile, but reality soon had me frowning again. Ray _had_ lost weight. Cellar work, long shifts and animal husbandry weren’t easy tasks but were far lighter on the system than his site work at Canary Wharf had been. Ray almost matched me meal for meal. He frequently elected to swap his chips for baked potatoes, but he certainly ate enough red meat and didn’t seem to skimp on portions. Though the days were getting warmer, I surreptitiously kept the fires going just for him. The customers loved looking at them, though I opened plenty of windows to let out the latent heat. I even saw the ghosts sweating on occasion and who would have ever thought that a ghost could sweat?

The nights were becoming the real concern however. On three occasions now I had been roused from deep sleep by a thrashing partner drenched in fever, tearing at his skin and moaning in obvious distress. The alarm clock bought relief to both of us, with Ray remembering little of his nightly sufferings. As the mornings came, he faced them bravely seeming relatively normal by opening time, but still I worried.

I tried and failed to stop Ray working but my protestations usually fell on deaf ears. He missed a few bar shifts and looked brighter for the enforced rest, but was still up with the lark come delivery day. Looking back I suppose that was probably a blessing in disguise …

It was a normal enough delivery, with Ray as ever taking as much labour from the draymen’s shoulders as he could. All was well until the final keg was hoisted and I heard his cry whilst deep in the bowels of the cellar. I raced up the steps like a rat up a drainpipe to be faced with my poor partner clutching at his stomach looking as white as a sheet.

“Ray, what the hell happened? Christ are you alright?”

“Yeah … yeah, Bodie, it’s okay ... I’ve just got a flippin’ groin strain, I need to sit down for a minute I think …”

I looked to the brewery men who looked back sheepishly, immediately offering to help me manoeuvre Ray back indoors. They were paid handsomely to conduct the entire delivery by themselves though they always accepted Ray’s help willingly enough. I left them to complete the task as I made my partner comfortable in the snug.

“Right where does it hurt, Sunshine, let me take a look.”

Ray lifted his shirt and I immediately saw the problem.

“Bloody hell, love, you’ve got a lump there the size of a golf ball, that needs looking at, I’m getting you to A and E with NO arguments!”

“Oh God, don’t say I’ve gone and got a bloody hernia, that’s the last thing I need!”

“Well let’s just see shall we?” I replied doubtfully.

The bulge was far too low to be a hernia, sitting proud of Ray’s groin like a smoothed egg. For a moment, I was indecisive. An ambulance was only a call away, but there was a winding road, an unforgiving ford and probable bureaucracy between an ambulance and any hospital. With the help of a chagrined drayman, I gently lowered Ray into the Range Rover after dropping some seats and after shouting instructions to Rolf, we were off and away.

The Salisbury District Accident and Emergency department was busy though not frantic and my erratic parking soon alerted staff to our plight. A security guard was the first to reach us and totally unprepared to take any bullshit, I addressed him immediately.

“Help me in with him then deal with the car!”

Whether he was more pleased at feeling important or suddenly being in possession of a set of Range Rover keys, I didn’t really care. He competently helped me get Ray to the front of the queue before leaving to deal with my errant vehicle.

A doctor rushed through to us and I suddenly realised I was expected to give an explanation for our dramatic arrival. I couldn’t explain my deepest fears in words, so I simply raised Ray’s shirt and pointed. The doctor leaned forward to take a closer look. He brushed his moustache thoughtfully before coming to some sort of decision and my beloved partner was whisked from before my eyes. It was a full two hours before I would see him again.

Finally, a harassed looking nurse, wheeled a furious looking Ray back out to the waiting area to meet me.

“Jesus, Ray, what the hell have they been doing to you all this time?”

“Leaving me waiting around in corridors for the most part, I’m only here now because I threatened to scream the bloody place down!”

“Why did nobody call for me then, I could have spent all that time sitting with you! Is that really all you’ve been doing then, just sitting around?”

“Well no, to give them their due, I think it’s because I’ve been referred to all these different departments after coming in through A&E. They’re having to fit me around all their scheduled appointments and I think they must have thought that you were only here to drop me off. I’ve been poked and prodded and am just waiting for some bloke to look at the x-rays they’ve taken.”

“They’ve taken x-rays? Bloody hell, Ray, what of, what are they suspecting, have they given you any idea?”

“They took chest x-rays and did some blood tests and then took a sample out of that lump I’ve got. I’ve got an idea about what they’re thinking as I heard them talking and I get the impression it’s a bit more serious than a simple groin strain.”

“Oh for Christs sake, Ray, what is it?”

“Look, Bodie, I don’t wanna jinx anything by talking about it, but I think I’d better prepare myself for some possible bad news.”

I was desperate to hear more, but we were suddenly interrupted by a new doctor, one I hadn’t seen before. I’m sure he was very polite, but I completely missed his name and anything else he might have said, just hearing the words ‘oncology consultant’.

We were taken into Mr ‘Joseph Robinson’’s office and Ray was reunited with his clothing. My heart was beating so fast I was almost tempted to ask Mr Robinson if he had any mates in cardiology, but my mouth was so dry I didn’t interrupt the man as he started to speak.

“Sorry, too keep you waiting, gentlemen, Mr Doyle is it okay to speak in front of your friend, er, Mr Bodie is it?”

“Yeah, course it is, Bodie’s my partner.”

“Well … er would you not rather have a family member with you, or a wife or a girlfriend perhaps?”

I could feel Ray bristle beside me.

“I _said_ , doctor, Bodie’s my _partner_. As in lover, boyfriend, bum chum …”

“Okay, Ray, that’s enough! I think the doctor probably gets the idea …”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think, you’d put on the details form that Mr Bodie was your business partner and I just assumed, please forgive me!”

Ray finally calmed himself enough to allow the good doctor to speak.

“Well, Mr Doyle, I hope that you’ll be pleased to hear that your chest x-rays were completely clear. That in itself, is extremely _good_ news. I take it you’re not feeling any discomfort from the biopsy? The blood results that _have_ come back show no signs of infection which is the normal reasons for lymph nodes swelling up, so we seem to be looking for something else. We’ve made an outpatient appointment for you on Monday when we’ll have the rest of your results. In the meantime, I stress to you not to worry, Mr Doyle, no earthly good will come of that. We’ll know what’s wrong soon enough and then what needs to do about it.”

The drive home was made in near silence, until Ray decided to make an announcement.

“My Uncle Richard died of Hodgkin’s disease, Bodie. What’s the betting he’s passed it down to me?”

“I never even knew you _had_ an Uncle Richard.”

“Yeah he married my Aunt Mary.”

“What your Aunt Mary _Doyle_?”

“Yeah that’s him.”

“Ray, if this _Richard_ I’ve never heard of, married your auntie, you’re not related to him anyway you berk, he’s not your blood relative! Let’s just get in, have a quiet drink and take stock of things, shall we? It’s been a bloody long day all in all.”

It _had_ been a hell of a day. Ray looked exhausted and I knew just how he felt.

I was slightly shamed walking through the bars without greeting a soul. Our staff bless them, seemed to sense that something bad had gone down and were dealing with a pub full of patrons like seasoned professionals.

Elvis greeted us from the depths of Ray’s old shirt, but even _his_ welcome seemed muted. I needed time with my partner and when the hairy hound was shut outside, he made no murmur.

I needed to talk with Ray though how I could do it in our state of tiredness, I had no idea. When he suddenly started to strip slowly in front of me, I realised my own limitations. Suddenly, to my complete surprise, he was all over me like a tom cat. Knowing the wrongness of his timing, I was only human and defy any creature; man, woman or beast, to ignore Ray Doyle when he gets that glint in his eye.

With astonishing efficiency, Ray took us both to the point of perfection with as much professionalism as a seasoned hooker. As we floated back down to the other side, I squeezed him gently as I knew he loved. The resulting scream put an Elvis howl to shame and certainly wasn’t a cry of pleasure. Shocked to near panic, I stared down on my poor partner who’d turned white with pain. My flapping about with cries of ambulances, doctors or even the local vet soon brought him back to full sense. Ray’s gently spoken words finally penetrated my troubled brain.

“Sorry, Bodie that wasn’t your fault.”

“For God’s sake I hurt you, of course it was my fault!”

“You pressed the wrong spot mate, you didn’t do it on purpose!”

“What do you mean the ‘wrong spot’? You’ve never seemed to have a ‘wrong spot’ before?”

“I’ve had this kind of _lump_ there, Bodie.”

“What? Where and for how long? And why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I dunno, it wasn’t there all the time, sometimes it went away and I got to forget about it. I guess I shouldn’t have ignored it, cos it’s obviously something bad.”

“Where IS it for Christ’s sake?”

“Bodie, please … please don’t shout, not just now …”

I mentally counted to ten but my fear outweighed my patience and seemed to prompt Ray to reveal more.

“I found this sort of lump thing a couple of months ago in one of my, well you know… one of my …”

“And what did the doctor have to say about it?”

“What doctor?”

“Oh, Ray for God’s SAKE! You spent most of the day in the hospital urology department, surely _someone_ had something to say about the fact that you had a lump in one of your balls!”

“I didn’t show anyone, the lump wasn’t there then.”

“Well you still should have mentioned it for heavens’s sake! It’s obviously connected somehow, but what hurts Ray, what bloody well _really_ hurts, is the fact that didn’t even occur to you to mention it to me!”

I was furious now, my growing dread fuelling my anger.

“Weeks, Ray, WEEKS I’ve been asking if you were feeling okay and you never said a bloody word! Why didn’t you tell me, you selfish little sod?”

Ray suddenly exploded.

“Oh for Christs sake, Bodie I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give you an excuse to leave me again!”

I was stunned into silence having no idea how to respond. As I felt my tears well, I finally recognised the sheer terror that Ray had been concealing from me all these months.

“Oh, my dear love, what on earth made you think that I could ever leave you? You’re my other half, the right hand to my left, the white to my black, the answer to all my prayers, Ray! Mucking you around was the worst thing I _ever_ did and I thank God every day that you gave me a second chance! I’m so _very_ sorry that you thought I’d want to bail out if it turns out you might be ill. I’m shamed by that, Ray, really I am. We’ll get through this, whatever it is and I’ll be right by your side as we do it!”

Ray soaked up my words before he replied.

“Sorry, Bodie, I’ve been a prat, I know. It’s just … well we’ve always come though knocks before and I didn’t want to appear any less of a man in front of you. I mean how would you feel if this was you it happened to?”

“Completely fucking terrified, my lovely one, but there’s nothing more to be done tonight but take a drink, shut up shop and then lay together as we always do. You’ve nothing to prove to me, Ray even though it was _very_ nice when you did.”

Ray finally showed his weariness and I wandered downstairs to lock up.

I was at a particularly low ebb when Amos beckoned me in the snug. To my shame, I had little tolerance for the old ghost, his frustrating speech impediment being far worse than the simple stammer that Elspeth had suggested. Surprisingly, Ray had far more patience with him, either somehow understanding what he was trying to say or at least pretending too. As a result, Amos tended to avoid me altogether which to be honest, suited me fine. It was a surprise therefore when he actually chose to seek out my company.

Settling down on the bench beside me, he gently laid his hand over mine making me jump. I never really liked coming into contact with the ghosts, the sheer weirdness of it creeping me out completely. There was no rhyme of reason to how they could float through a wall one minute and then have bulk and substance the next. I’d never really cared for things that I couldn’t explain and as a consequence never felt quite as comfortable with our houseguests presence as my partner seemed to be.

Amos became animated and I braced myself as always, he struggled to speak.

“Massa oil be awlwy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Massa OIL. Hebe _awlwy_! _”_

“Look I’m sorry, Amos, I just can’t understand you and I need to get upstairs to Ray I’m afraid.”

“Yesh, imm! Raay. Raay Oil, hebe awlwy. In en, hebe awlwy!"

I suddenly had the slightest inking of what Amos was trying to get across to me.

“You’re talking about Ray, Amos?”

“YESH, Raay Oil!”

Suddenly interested, I gave Amos all my attention.

“Massa Oil be awlwy. You take bess care o’ imm.!”

Suddenly recognising the old man’s meaning, I replied automatically,

“I will, Amos.”

I laid my spare hand over his, but his frozen digits melted from my grasp. Elspeth appeared though her vision was shadowy.

“Amos was murdered three miles from here, Master Bodie, by people who despised his deafness and thought his lack of coherent speech made him stupid. Few knew his insights nor his honesty in revealing them. You’ve heard his insights now yourself, which makes you a rare being. Heed his words and use them well, I bid you goodnight …”

Ray was dead to the world when I went up. Forgetting the times I’d retired to the guest room for Ray’s comfort, I hugged his sleeping form close to me for the rest of the night. It was impossibly hot and we must have sweated like navvies, but it was the best nights sleep I’d had in weeks.

~~~oOo~~~

I was surprised to see Mr Joseph Robinson in attendance at my outpatient appointment, but the consultant brushed his own presence aside as a mere triviality.

“Well, Mr Doyle, as you know, we performed a multitude of blood tests on you and from the results, we might have a better idea of what’s going on. It means a feel around of your testicles if that’s alright?”

“You can feel around as much as you like, Doctor, but I can confirm that I’ve had a recurring lump in one of ‘em since Christmas.”

“That’s good news, Ray, at least far better news that it could have been. As I told you last week, your lungs are clear and none of the other tumour markers showed anything at all. Best case scenario is that we whip this little bugger out and then you carry on living your life as before.”

The doctor was a master of his art, putting me at my ease as few others could. I cursed myself for not listening to him more carefully in the first place, nor using my emergency appointment to my own advantage. I’d tried so long to hide the ugly truth from myself that it had become second nature to deny anything might possibly be wrong with me. The worst part of it was trying to hide the truth from Bodie. The things I’d said to him had been cruel and pointless. He’d shown me time and time again how devoted he was to me and our new life and I'd thrown my insecurities back at him like a spoilt child.

Sometimes it seemed to me that our wonderful life together was something so incredible, so completely unexpected, that it might just blow up in my face like the bursting of a pretty balloon. I knew without question that Bodie loved me, but being nursemaid to each other had never been part of the deal.

According to Mr Joseph Robinson, I was extremely unlucky to befall testicular cancer at my time of life. It would seem that young men half my age should be the most afflicted. I felt for them one and all, as age certainly didn’t help me through it any.

Bodie however, did.

I had sparse family that I occasionally conversed with, my parents being long dead. _Bodie_ was my family and though I’d been so awful to him, he treated me like spun glass. He attended every single medical appointment, matched my every mood and finally saw me through the brief operation.

God knows what I put that poor man though.

I was so wrapped up in my own selfish misery, I gave little thought to others. Two days after having my left testicle removed, I was looking out over the ‘Godforsaken Stinking Swamp’, when a heavy paw landed on my back nearly causing me to choke. I suddenly realised I hadn’t uttered a kind word to Elvis in weeks. I’d shouted at him, endlessly told him to fuck off out of the way, moaned when he’d cried for his dinner and never once attempted to walk him.

My operation had been a success. I still needed annual checks, but as the medics predicted, I soon overcame my feeling of ‘lop-sidedness’. My sex drive returned and fortunately, Bodie was forgiving enough to indulge me fully. I was a lucky man. I had people around me that loved and cared for me unconditionally.

I’d always been selfish. I’d always thought myself worthy of selfishness until that huge paw slapped me on the back nearly knocking me senseless. As I looked into big doggy eyes wise beyond their tender years, I realised that I was nothing more special than a simple man who had everything he could possibly want at his fingertips.

Brushing the dirt from my jeans, I said:

“Come on then, Elvis let’s find Bodie and go for a nice long evening walk.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Priority A3!

It was terribly hard trying to restrain from completely smothering Ray after his health scare. At the best of times, he’s an awful patient, but if he ever feels I’m ‘fussing’ unnecessarily, he’s never slow to let me know what he thinks of my dubious parentage.  

June was shaping up to be a wonderful month. We were never short of customers, though Ray feared that resting on our laurels might cause boredom to our patrons. I could see no evidence of it. Rolf and Alain were making such a name for themselves that people came from far and wide and I already dreaded losing either of them.

When an extensive clear out of Primrose’s barn exposed two rusting barbeques, I was all for Ray’s idea of bringing them back into service. Jackson Blake, our local farrier, was the man to go to. A skilled welder such as him should never have felt the need to go near horses, but he seemed to revere the creatures so much that his talents with an oxy acetylene torch were largely superfluous. Gifted enough to spin clouds to the rain, there was nothing that Jackson couldn’t design, make or mend and he was more than happy to refurbish our scrap metal for the princely sum of two pints.

The grills were unrecognisable by the time Jackson had woven his magic, standing like two glinting goliaths in the late evening sun. The chefs were ecstatic at being able to take their trade out of the hot kitchens and the first of our ‘Summer Sundays’ was a sweltering sell out.

Gary, one of our young sous chefs, professed to be a master of the griddle and elected himself for shifts willingly. Our previously calm garden resembled a slightly mad school fete but there was nothing as satisfying as the sound of happy customers, willing staff and ringing tills.

There were growing feelings of excitement between Ray and myself, though I suspected for very different reasons.

Murphy had applied for irretrievable leave dates, meaning that unless Parliament itself was under siege, he was free to visit without the threat of a call back to duty. He promised to bring with him as many agents as could be available and I marvelled that he had elected to forgo his week on the Costa Brava to be with us.

Ray could often be found having clandestine chats with Patrick and Lucinda. Lucinda Henry was a ‘Forest Agister’. Working for the Forest ‘Verderers’ she held a very responsible post of upkeep of the forests grazing animals. She also spoke non-stop, to anyone who was willing to listen, about horses. It was little surprise to me when Ray’s previous enthusiasm for acquiring something with two wheels turned into a longing for a creature with four legs.

It wasn’t the worst idea in the world, Ray buying a pony. We had more grass in our paddock than Primrose could wish to eat and it wasn’t every day that I could take Elvis for ten mile hikes. He could easily keep up with a small horse if he was able to accept the things. He saw plenty of them during our lopes into the forest and largely ignored them, but whether he could be trusted enough to run safely alongside one was another matter.

I’d soon learned that Elvis was not a dog who could be trained under any circumstances. I’d thought it a wise and responsible idea to take him to obedience classes, though Ray had laughed himself hoarse and come along with us just for the crack of it. I couldn’t have imagined a more embarrassing evening and I still shudder to think of it now. Within seconds, my lovely pup decided he hated our bouncy and rather bossy instructor ‘Mike’ with a passion. When poor Mike bent over to look at the teeth of a tiny unsuspecting French bulldog, Elvis lurched forward with the velocity of a primed torpedo and bit a chunk out of poor Mike’s tennis-short clad backside. Mike turned with a look of pure horror on his face. I held up my hands in supplication, after all we were mere students and if he couldn’t control his class then surely that was his problem. Mike obviously didn’t agree and when he began to shout, it soon became everyone’s problem. Elvis took violently against someone yelling at me and suddenly started snapping and snarling like a demented crocodile. This started all the others off and before too long the entire hall was a mass of screaming, crying, yelping dogs. Mike turned beet red and looked as though he was about to suffer a heart attack. Finally his co-trainer, Simone, arrived on the chaotic scene and screeched for quiet, immediately shocking the class into stunned silence, except of course for a tiny whimpering from the corner that I knew could only be coming from Ray who I cursed with all my being. I’d long lost Elvis in the melee and I knew without being told that our attendance at class was probably no longer welcomed. I hastily looked around for my dog only to find him attempting to mount a rather haughty looking standard poodle.

Ray was incoherent by the time we finally managed to make it out to the car park. I was rather disappointed by his lack of support and even more miffed by a completely unconcerned Elvis who jumped into the back of the Range Rover with a mere wave of my hand. I’d learned my own lesson however. Elvis would learn only what he wanted to and if he found an instruction pointless, he soon managed to ignore it. He was a dream of a dog indoors, totally housetraining himself, greeting our customers like long lost friends and turning into a menacing doorman come closing time, so I quickly forgot any ideas I had ever had about training Elvis.

~~~oOo~~~

The Sunday barbeques became so popular that we soon extended them to Saturdays as well. Our first summer at The House At Worlds End was turning out to be such a blistering heatwave that our paddock grass was starting to die. Gladly, there were so many neighbours around that promised bountiful armloads of winter hay that I was unconcerned about future fodder for our small menagerie. The goats were largely self-serving, enjoying anything from sausages to socks but the donkey needed decent roughage and so hopefully would my new mount. It was years since I’d ridden seriously. In my childhood days I’d messed about on the scruffy ponies that wandered the wastelands around Derby. In the awful month after my father died, Mum took me to her dearest ones in Ireland. For four long weeks, strict lessons in horsemanship helped me overcome my sense of utter loss and turned me into a half decent rider. As an adult, I’d occasionally hired myself the odd hack when time permitted and even briefly considered a career with the mounted police. Competition for the Mounted Division was fierce however and the post would do little to develop the detective skills of which I became quietly proud.

The New Forest was a very different matter. I saw ponies around me every day and mingled with people who talked about nothing else. The dog preferred Bodie’s company until nightfall and the other animals seemed to be perfectly happy with only occasional visits, the customers giving them more attention than they could ever wish for. After nearly eight months of pub ownership, I knew my trade well and longed to be tinkering. There was no way I could afford to take on a bike to restore. The Range Rover had eaten our savings and though it was splendid, was serviced by the local dealership and shelling out cash was the end of our mechanical relationship with it. All in all, horses seemed a far cheaper option and though Bodie was a reluctant rider, I was sure I could persuade him of the benefits of them easily enough. My dream was to join the riders on the autumn ‘drift’. The New Forest pony drift was an annual tradition where the animals of the forest where all rounded up, assessed, treated and then sold or released. Someone had showed me a video recording they’d shot of the event and it looked like one of the most exciting things I’d ever seen.

In the meantime, we had a visit from Murphy to look forward to. He’d guaranteed his presence for a whole week, possibly bringing other old comrades with him. Though it had been an ongoing idea, Bodie and I had yet to accommodate living, breathing guests and I was somewhat nervous about the whole thing. I spoke to humans during my working hours. When the pub doors closed, it was just me, Bodie, Elvis and the ghosts. The spirits knew their place and I was now adept at letting them know when they weren’t wanted. Even Elvis was becoming more comfortable as he approached adult doghood, depending on our presence far less throughout the entirety of the night.

We had the room and facilities to set up a booming bed and breakfast outlet. Hopefully, Murphy would never know that he was to be our guinea pig such would be our slick performance, but it seemed odd to be treating a friend as a customer. Slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing, I found release from my anxieties in my chats with Lucinda and Patrick Henry. They had promised faithfully that they could easy source me a decent little horse that would pass any vets inspection for a minimal price. Their visits had also recently been graced by their charming son, James. James Henry soon hoped to be reading something pretty forgettable at Southampton, but it was admirable that he chose to spend his nights away from his A level studies accompanying his parents in a rural pub rather than pissing his pocket money up a student union wall. I was all for embracing a younger clientele and welcomed James with open arms.

~~~oOo~~~

I completely hated James Henry. Whilst I was never in the position to criticize someone for their homosexuality, there’s just something about try-hard desperados trying to muscle in on someone else’s partner that I just can’t stand. When he came in with his parents it was bad enough. He was reasonably well behaved even though it was pretty obvious the shandies they bought him were slightly too much for him. When he started coming in on his own and ordering pints with chasers, he started to become a handful.

At nineteen years old, James Henry obviously wasn’t the brightest student, resitting his A levels long after his contemporary’s had left in search of careers of their own. All tight tee shirts and cut-off shorts, he was the epitome of a wave of new youngsters attempting to plague the pop charts with their floppy bleached fringes and immature views. I didn’t mind stupid, didn’t even mind fey, though James Henry was neither all the time that Ray wasn’t around. As soon as my partner appeared however, James turned into the most pathetic of creatures, bemoaning his parents, his poverty and the complete desolation of his life. The poverty plea only lasted the once after James learned that nobody was willing to fund his drinking and that he’d be served no more unless he could pay. I’d met James’s parents and knew that Ray hoped to do business with them. They seemed good enough sorts who after all, had been caring enough to overlook the fact that their son was a useless layabout. I’d been running for my life in a stinking jungle at seventeen so his tales of woe didn’t cut much ice with me.  

Ray Doyle was anyone’s for a sob story. It was a large part of what made me love him, after all he’d given me umpteen second chances. That fact didn’t improve my opinion of him chatting to James Henry after hours when our doors were firmly closed to the public. We’d had the occasional lock-in since we’d started the business, but generally we were so tired at the end of each day it was a blessed relief to shut out the world before we turned to each other. Three times now, Ray had closed our doors with James Henry on the completely wrong side of them. On the last occasion, I’d got fed up with playing gooseberry and turned in on my own, feeling decidedly jaded and really rather lonely.

I had no reason to doubt my partner. I’d trusted him with my life so many times that him taking care of my heart seemed a mere trifle. I was the one after all, that had cheated and flaunted and purposely broken him, so I felt I had no reason to pull him up on whose company he kept. It still hurt though. I’d trusted certain jungle guerrillas more than I trusted James Henry. The looks he gave me would fell a lesser man and I knew without being told that the lad was totally enjoying the effect he was having on me. Actually being told didn’t help much either, as on my next night of bedding down alone I was granted the endearing pleasure of a ghostly visit from the painted fop.

“You look aggrieved, Master Bodie, I never would have thought it from one such as you!”

“We can’t all look on the bright side of life like you do, Henry. I mean, you’re dead so you don’t _have_ to give a shit, but for those of us still living there are things we need to deal with.”

“Ah yes, that young namesake of mine! You’d do well to fear him, for you surely know his agenda?”

“He’s just a kid, Henry, I shouldn’t be jealous of him, Ray’s just being friendly to him after all ….”

“I was merely out of boyhood when I tupped the future queen of France. The fact that a decade later I had to employ special agents at exorbitant cost, simply to escape that country tells me that naiveté and bullheadedness were no excuses for mulishness. A man with a young mind can’t think as one of experience. The young Henry has little idea of the damage he could cause, Master Bodie.”

I couldn’t act on Henry’s insights however much they struck a chord. His constant boasts of position within Parisian and London society might well have been impressive were they not to come from one whose death had come about through his own stupidity. At most, the ghosts were an amusing distraction for me when I could be bothered to tolerate them. Elspeth seemed the most intelligent of all of them, but even _she_ couldn’t manage to unblock the dishwasher drain when it flooded, so unlike Ray, I tried not to depend on our spectral house mates for much.

Matters were coming to a head however and as the temperatures rose, our tempers began to flare. Wearily closing down one sultry Friday night, I recognised all the signs of James Henry hankering for just ‘one last drink’ after Ray had ejected the bulk of our trade. Suddenly incensed at the cheek of the boy, I stormed behind the bar, slammed the glasswasher shut and loudly announced,

“I’m sorry, but we’re bloody well closed!”

Both Ray and Henry stared at me open mouthed but I ignored them, frantically polishing glasses as though possessed. I dimly heard Ray making quiet noises of apology to the lad before gently seeing him off the premises. I knew the mother of all rows was about to ensue and for a just a moment, I didn’t care. We’d both put in a full day, up with the lark for the draymen, organising the cellar, overseeing nearly a hundred covers for dinner and lunch and serving a pub full of drinkers all day long. The weekend would bring yet more barbeque bedlam and I felt the least I could expect was some time on our own if only to sleep.

Ray pushed home the door bolts and turned to face me, a look of thunder painting his face.

“And just what the _fuck_ was all that about, you rude bastard?”

“I just fancied a night on our own if that’s not too much to ask for, you know, one without Boy Wonder in tow!”

“Just what the _hell_ is your problem with him, Bodie?”

“Um, let me see. He’s nineteen going on twelve for a start …”

“Well I’m sure he’s very sorry for not sharing your supreme level of intellect, Bodie!”

“Oh Christ’s sake, Ray, you’re a forty year old man, can’t you see where all this is leading?”

“No quite frankly, I can’t, Bodie, just what is it you’re accusing me of?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, you idiot, but he might well do if you don’t play the game he wants you to be playing!”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, you bloody Neanderthal!”

“Well try this for size then! You’re a rich, successful businessman and he fancies the pants off you. When you _eventually_ tell him that you have absolutely no interest in getting into _his_ pants do you think he’s gonna take it lightly, Ray? Well do you?”

“You sound just like a bloody jealous fishwife, Bodie!”

“Oh pardon me, perhaps you’re not planning on telling him anything of the sort. Give you a kick does it having a skinny teenager lusting after your body?”

“You’re getting _very_ close to making me want to belt you one, Bodie, don’t push me any further …”

“Guilty conscience, Ray? P’raps I _was_ wrong after all.”

“Bloody right you were wrong!”

“Yeah p’raps the reason you haven’t told him to fuck off is because you actually _do_ rather fancy getting into his pants …”

“You utter bastard! Don’t judge others by your own shoddy standards, Bodie, you’ll be sure to be disappointed if you do!”

The thought quelled me. Much as I loved and trusted my partner, I’d still accused him of acting in the way I’d once done, to my eternal shame. Determined that the night wouldn’t end in physical blows, I poured us a brandy a piece and Ray accepted the proffered glass with a silent scowl. I longed to apologise for certain things I’d said, but Ray didn’t seem to want to hear anything further from me. Already regretting the hangover I knew I would suffer throughout the whole of the next day’s ‘Summer Saturday’, I finished the bottle alone, finally, miserably bedding myself down in the snug.

~~~oOo~~~

At last I got the call I’d been waiting for. Lucinda Henry had taken two of her ponies from the forest, broken them to saddle and now pronounced them fit for sale. There was little to choose between them being siblings, though Lucinda assured me that the chestnut mare was fast and fleet and the bay gelding, safe and secure.

It was never a chore to visit the Henry’s. They lived in a fantastically beautiful house which wouldn’t have looked out of place in the American Everglades. Always ready to welcome a guest, a decent spread was never beyond them and if I accepted all the alcohol they offered me, I’d surely never be capable of driving home.

I put the ponies through their paces, instantly falling in love with both. Not only would either easily win any beauty contest, Lucinda had been perfectly correct in her assessments. The mare, ‘Fern’, had an excitement about her which told me she was ready to go and go quickly about it. She’d be my ideal pony for attending the autumn drift should my horsemanship prove worthy of an invite. Riding the gelding ‘Finbar’, felt like settling into a rather old and favoured armchair and I instantly thought of Bodie.

Bodie had never seen the Henry’s house, having such an aversion to the son James, even though I hadn’t laid eyes on the boy in my visits there. I was a bit concerned that Bodie might try to block my idea of the pony completely but he was surprisingly complicit when I told him of my findings.

“Which one would you rather have, Ray?”

“They’re both so good in their own right, I just don’t _know_ , Bodie!”

“Well how much are they?”

He did a double take when I told him the prices and I suddenly feared I was stretching our finances too far.

“Bloody hell, I thought they’d be double that!”

“They’re New Forest ponies, Bodie not Derby winners. It’s the going price for such animals, I thought it was a bit steep to be honest!”

“Nonsense, for that price I don’t see why you don’t just buy the pair of ‘em! They’d be company for each other after all and Ned’s always on at you to turn Primrose out in that back field so I’m sure they’d have enough grass.”

Though Ned boasted a modest flock of sheep, he was predominantly an arable farmer, who rested his considerable land regularly. The enormous field that backed onto our paddock wouldn’t be seeing a crop for at least two more years. He’d often suggested we turn Primrose out on it and if we had any idea of how to ever catch her again, we might well have done so.

Bodie was quite right to suggest that we would always have ample grazing available but I was amazed that he’d been the one to suggest that I should buy both animals. I was slightly surprised that he’d taken any interest at all. He’d been rather distant since we’d had words about my friendship with James and though he hadn’t brought up the subject again, I sensed I might really have hurt him. Though I still didn’t think I really had anything to apologise for, I stopped any further after hours drinking with James who in turn, seemed to visit the pub less.

The Henrys were so thrilled at my intention to buy the two ponies, they routed around in their copious sheds coming up with enough tack to deck out both animals. On Rolf’s night off, he kindly drove Bodie and I to the Henry’s abode and we rode back our new charges together. Approaching the House At Worlds End at twilight, via the field that was to become the ponies new home, I suddenly heard frantic barking, spotting Elvis hurtling towards us like a streak of lightning. Fern tensed slightly beneath me but Fin looked on quite unconcerned. Skidding to a halt, Elvis sniffed each pony’s muzzle, circled behind us and fell into step between us and that’s all the training he ever seemed to need regarding riding out with horses. For such a gangly dog he was surprisingly precise in where to place his feet, looking really quite delicate in action. There was never a question that he’d bother the ponies who accepted him immediately as part of the gang and though he occasionally hared off after the odd rabbit or deer, he never left our sides for long.

Summer at the pub was as frantic as ever and it was a relief one evening to be left in relative peace as I waved off the darts team bound for an away match in Brockenhurst. I was just fitting a new bottle to the Johnny Walker optic and as I turned was blessed with a delighted smile from James Henry.

“Hi, James, long time no see!”

“Yeah sorry about that, Ray, I’ve been trying to avoid the Neanderthal as you call him!”

Something about that statement didn’t quite sit right with me, but I let it go as I served Rodney his whiskey. I longed to talk about the progress of the ponies, but single-minded James was having none of it.

“He won’t be back for a while will he, it _was_ him I saw driving the mini bus wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was him, why, did you want Bodie for something, James?”

“No course I didn’t, it’s _you_ I want to talk to, what would I want to talk to that idiot about?”

“Um, perhaps turn it down a bit if you would, James, that _is_ my partner you’re talking about after all …”

“Yeah more’s the pity! What the hell do you see in him, Ray, he’s far too old for you after all!”

I almost burst out laughing at that one.

“Bodie’s two years younger than me so Christ knows how old you must think I am!”

“Well he doesn’t bloody act it. You deserve so much better, Ray if only you could see it! You’re settling for second best all the time you’re stuck with him!”

I’d heard enough and certainly wasn’t about to air any more dirty laundry in front of Rodney’s flapping ears, roughly grabbling James’s arm and pulling him towards the near silent snug which seemed to somewhat thrill him.

“Oh, Ray, alone at last eh …”

“Now just you listen here you little fucker! You have _no_ idea what you’re talking about and I won’t have you judging Bodie under any circumstances! I don’t know just what ideas are going through your silly head, but if you want to continue to be welcomed in here then you’d better just forget ‘em. Bodie and I are solid and if you were the last person left alive on earth, I wouldn’t turn to you, James, got it?”

James Henry paled obviously not quite expecting _that_ reaction.

“I _said_ , boy, have you got it?”

James nodded miserably, forced tears squeezing from his eyes and I felt no sympathy for him whatsoever.

“Oh for heaven’s sake grow up, James! You’ve got more chance with Princess Diana than you’ve got with me and if you can remember that then we can pretend that this pointless little chat never even happened!”

Red as a beetroot, James Henry swiftly left the bar without finishing his lager. Though I didn’t envy him his raging hormones or troubled young mind, I was furious at myself for my own lack of insight. Bodie of course had been completely correct and I’d been too pig headed to see it.

Bodie was exhausted through driving and heat when he finally got home, but I was ready with a brandy for him all the same.

“Special treatment? What have I done to deserve this then, Sunshine?”

“It’s just to say sorry, mate. James Henry tried to make a pass at me tonight. I told him just what I thought about that and that if he insults you again, he’s barred for life.”

Bodie smiled at me gently, instant forgiveness granted. Even though the thermometer had hardly moved with the onset of night, sweating like dockers, we reaffirmed our love well into the early hours.

~~~oOo~~~

The day of Murphy’s imminent arrival dawned bright and fair with the promise of wonderful weather to come.

Ray and I had worked hard to clean and ready the spare rooms, still having no idea how many visitors we might be expecting, but prepared to impress all the same. Determined that we would get plenty of time to enjoy with our friends we aimed to complete our tasks in record time, but we still had our charges to think of. In an attempt to beat the promised hot day, I left with Elvis for his morning romp at just after eight, leaving my disgruntled partner struggling to leave the comfort of bed.

I rarely ventured far from the pubs perimeter whilst walking the dog alone, but it was amazing how many miles we could cover whilst lost in our own thoughts. Elvis had endless energy and it was only when we took him out with the ponies that we ever seemed to really tire him out.

I checked my watch at just before ten and decided it was high time we headed back. The sweat was starting to trickle down the back of my neck and it would soon be too hot to make working comfortable, so we headed back down Ned’s service road towards home. I was slightly surprised at hearing the sound of a speeding engine. On completely private land, the only vehicles that tended to use the road were tractors and trailers going to the storage sheds and they wouldn’t start getting busy for at least another month when the first of the crops were brought in. About to give some wayward tourist a piece of my mind, I was astonished when a bright blue Escort van sped passed me nearly knocking me down. I stared after the strangers as they kicked up the dust in the distance, knowing instantly that something was wrong about the whole thing. I set up a gentle jog with Elvis by my side but the stores were at least a mile off and the van had had a good head start on me. I could just about make the buildings out when I heard another engine, different from the first, but also revving furiously and that’s when I first felt the prickles of real concern. Elvis looked up sharply obviously also sensing the danger and I only just had time to shove him roughly out of the way before the brown Vauxhall that was bearing down on us, aimed towards me and ploughed into my right side flinging me into the ditch. I fell roughly, an intense ache flaring in my hip which as my legs crumpled under me, was instantly replaced by a tearing pain accompanied by a loud snapping sound. The last thing I managed to do before complete darkness claimed me, was attempt to reach out for my beloved dog.

~~~oOo~~~

I was bloody furious with Bodie. He’d apparently looked forward to Murphy’s visit for weeks and now he was nowhere to be seen. It was eleven o’clock and I felt like I’d already put in a full day. I’d bottled up with Julie who’d offered to start early knowing we wanted time to spend with our friends later in the day. In exchange I’d promised she could finish her shift at ten which she was thrilled with.

The cleaned bar looked wonderful, the epitome of a well-loved country pub, but I had no time to rest on my laurels and spent a frustrating half hour catching the fractious ponies who didn’t particularly want being put in the paddock just to be to be shown off to my admiring friends.

By opening time, I was really starting to worry. If Bodie was trying to prove some worthless point, he’d proved it ten times over but there was no way he’d keep Elvis out in this heat just to annoy me. The bar was frantic. It was all hands on deck and I served beer like an automaton desperately trying to will away my worst fears.

By one o’clock, I was nearly incoherent and so distracted, I nearly missed Murphy’s arrival altogether. He had to try nearly three times to get my attention before I realised who he was and the relief at seeing him nearly caused me to break down completely.

“Oh, Murph, thank god you’re here! I need your help, mate and I need it now!”

“Bloody hell, Ray, what’s up, old friend?”

“Bodie’s missing, Murph! He went out at eight and he’s still not back. There’s no way he’d miss your arrival, something’s happened to him, I just know it has!”

“Oh bloody, ‘ell mate, come on let’s find a quiet corner - if there’s such a thing in this place, and you can fill me in.”

The bar was knee deep in people so I quickly drew Murphy towards the snug which was somewhat quieter.

“Right now calm down, Ray and tell me where you think Bodie might have gone.”

“He took the dog out at just after eight …”

“And how long does he normally take the dog out for?”

“In this weather no longer than a couple of hours. I would have expected him back by ten thirty at the very latest.”

“And what route was he planning to take?”

“Could have been any of several, but he wouldn’t have gone far from here. You could do a thirty mile hike if you walked in a circle and never be more than a couple of miles away from this place.”

“And what sort of gear has he got with him, maps, mobile telephone, survival kit any of that?”

“Murph for Christ’s sake he wasn’t on Special Ops, he was taking the flaming dog for a walk!”

“If I know Bodie he doesn’t go anywhere unprepared, Ray.”

“Unprepared for _what_? He does this every day of his blinking life, Murphy, it was just a _walk_!”

“Never know when you’re gonna slide down a ridge, fall off a cliff …”

“Murph, this is The New Forest, not the bloody Rocky Mountains! All I know is there’s no way Bodie would miss your arrival and he’s been out now for five hours. He’s fitter now than he’s been in years, not far off being CI5 fit. He’d never take any stupid risks if he was alone, he’s cleverer than that for heaven’s sake!”

“Well why the hell don’t you both carry mobile telephones?”

“Few round here do! There _are_ the odd people that have them because they’re too rich to know what else to do with their money, but all they ever do is complain about not being able to get a signal!”

“Okay, Ray right try and calm yourself down a bit, mate, we’ll find him, don’t you worry! Anson, Sally and Macklin are on the road behind me. They might not be able to stay all week, but I’m sure they’ll all up for a bit of search and rescue when they arrive. Right we’ll need some maps …”

“Anything I can do to help, chaps?”

I turned with relief to see James Henry offering yet further support. I might have had had my issues with the boy, but he’d been riding before he walk and was an excellent horseman. Forming a rapid plan of action in my mind I also mentally counted in Julie who knew the country like the back of her hand and would easily manage Finbar.

“James, Bodie’s gone missing whilst out with Elvis. This is an old friend of mine, Steve Murphy. I’m gonna take him out in the car and take a look, do you think you could take Fern out if I put Julie up on Fin?”

“Oh, Ray of course I could! Leave it all to me, I’ll sort the horses, don’t you worry!”

Relived, I left James with Murphy whilst I sourced some maps, checked that all was well with the bar and the ensuing barbeque preparations and grabbed the keys for the Range Rover. There were six routes that Bodie might have taken and only three were really accessible by car. I’d drive them all as quickly as I could before begging a horse, pony or trail bike for myself. I was getting to the stage that I would willingly don trainers and run the whole of the county if it meant finding Bodie safe and well.

We formed a quick search plan between us covering all of Bodies regular routes that I knew of. It was far more likely that the horse riders would find Bodie before us drivers did and I mentally thought of other regulars who would be willing to tack up a mount at short notice should our search be fruitless. Revving the Range Rover, I prepared to give my old friend and colleague Murphy a closer look at the countryside than either of us had expected.

~~~oOo~~~

The sun was far higher when I came to and that was to a familiar but disconcerting noise.

Elvis was panting to the point of distress. I tried to reach out to him and I’m sure he licked my hand the once, but his concentration was centred on staying as cool as he could at the same time as guarding me bravely.

My other hand was somewhat crushed beneath me and I couldn’t feel it very well. I struggled uncomfortably until I freed my trapped arm which instantly groped towards the source of my utter, indescribable pain. I felt a wetness on my joggers and finally, my slightly numb fingers wrapped themselves around a twiggy, sticky protrusion. I grasped the twig like thing, my last coherent thought being ‘open fracture’.

I’ve no idea how much time passed before the sound of horseshoes on tarmac roused me again. I could still see Elvis, but worryingly, his head was now firmly planted between his paws, not up and alert as it had been before. God knows how hot it was but I felt like I was boiling inside. Gladly, the excruciating pain I felt made the warmth welcome.

Unfortunately it wasn’t Ray that had come to save me from my plight on his trusty steed, but James Henry. Beggars couldn’t be choosers however and as I called out to him, I finally relaxed knowing that relief wasn’t far away. I slept a bit and the next time I woke, Elvis was gone.

~~~oOo~~~

At three o’clock I was in tears. As expected, driving around had shown no sign of Bodie. When the valiant riders arrived back with no news, I was all out of ideas. All around me my daily life went on. The thriving business I’d longed to showcase to my old colleagues went about unnoticed. James had dealt with the ponies and I’d sent Julie home with heartfelt thanks for her help.

For years, Murphy had put up with my moods without fear of reprisals so knew what he was facing when he came up with his next suggestion.

“Ray are you sure Bodie’s actually lost?”

“Well he’s not bloody well here is he?”

“No I mean … well you’re sure he hasn’t just disappeared of his own accord?”

“Why would you think that, this is his home, Murphy!”

“Well I was speaking to that young lad of yours earlier and he suggested you two weren’t that happy …”

“He’s not ‘my lad’ and he’s not Bodie’s greatest fan either. And if Bodie _were_ to flee where the hell would he go? All his money’s tied up here. He certainly hasn’t got the sort of cash to hire a room that would welcome a four foot wolfhound …”

All of a sudden I was completely and _absolutely_ certain that Bodie could never have done a runner. Footsore and overheated, Elvis appeared around the corner like a survivor exiting a desert. There was no way that Bodie would _ever_ leave Elvis and only a dire emergency would cause Elvis to leave Bodie. I leapt onto action dragging the poor dog into the paddock water trough. I only half imagined the relief I thought I saw on his face as he cooled his paws in the water. I hosed the exhausted animal down ‘til he was thoroughly drenched and he drank solidly for a good few minutes. The water brought him round with a vengeance as he suddenly, urgently started to bark roughly and loudly towards Neds land.

“What’s got into the dog, Ray?” Murphy asked me mystified.

“I dunno, Murph, but I never try to second guess the creature. He’s wiser than Cowley claimed to be when he puts his mind to it.”

“Well why don’t we follow him then, he was the last one that we know of to see Bodie after all!”

I didn’t have a better plan and Elvis was quivering with the need to be up and away. I saddled the ponies at warp speed, all the time assuring Murphy that horse riding was easy with a bit of imagination. He didn’t look too sure but I hoisted him up on Finbar before he had the chance to change his mind. Elvis looked up at us ensuring we were ready to leave before putting his nose to the ground and leading the way.

I was instantly comforted by the familiar pattern, the only difference being Murphy sitting in Bodie’s favoured place. I was most surprised that we hardly needed to travel far. All of this area had surely been covered by James, but by the end of Ned’s service road there was an ominous looking lump in the ditch that Elvis seemed determinedly headed towards. 

Not considering Murphy’s comfort for a moment, I urged both ponies into a gallop with a click of my tongue. I leapt down from Fern as soon as I’d roughly pulled her to a halt, staring down at my comatose partner strewn this way and that within the dried out ditch. Blood oozed everywhere, the murderous buzz of flies ringing deep in my ears. Trying to remember everything I’d ever learned about first aid, I urged my fingers towards Bodie’s precious throat, finally relieved at finding a strong and regular pulse. There was nothing else remotely healthy about Bodies condition however. A closer look revealed the most savage bone break I’d ever seen and I nearly threw up on the spot. Taking charge, Murphy pulled an object from his pocket which resembled a small black cigarette case. He somehow flipped it open and began shouting into it;

“All available agents! State your coordinates! Priority A3, man down!”

~~~oOo~~~

It would not have been my preferred method of meeting Murphy, from a hospital bed. Fortunately the complex operation to fix my protruding tibia would be something I’d never remember and as long as I suffered no fits of the vapours, would be released from the ward by late morning. My two excitable visitors, completely ignoring the fact that I had just endured major surgery, were clucking around me like a pair of noisy hens.

“Priority, A3! I’m sure Bodie will be thrilled to be still thought of as one of the old mob, and to think you managed to summon Anson on a cigarette case!”

“Technology _has_ come a little bit since you two left, Ray and as for Bodie, he might only be a lowly pub landlord these days, but he’ll always be one of us at heart!”

“Oi, I _am_ here you know and I’m sure some pretty nurse somewhere said that I should be treated to some peace and quiet me being a poor patient and all!”

“Not much chance of that, Sunshine, it’s time you were up and about and practicing on your crutches and the police want a word after the doctor’s cleared you for release.”

“Oh, god what the hell did I do to warrant their attention?”

“Possibly witness the aftermath of a robbery in their opinion. Pass him the paper, Murph.”

I stared in amazement at the bold headlines announcing the latest of a string of Post Office hold-ups across the south of England.

“When they investigated your accident at first light they discovered a van abandoned in one of your neighbours old barns. It was clean, but witnesses had already identified it as the probable getaway vehicle.”

“Christ, Murph it passed right by me!”

“Looks like they’d had a spare car stashed in Ned’s old silage shed, Bodie. Damn things nearly falling down and Ned told them he hadn’t used the place in years so it was the ideal base for a hideout. They're looking into all Ned’s old seasonal workers, see who might have had knowledge of the local area.”

“Bloody ‘ell Ray, some Neighbourhood Watch we are eh?”

“The law seemed to think it was a professional job, but it would help them out if you could describe the car that hit you.”

“It was a bronze coloured Vauxhall but I didn’t get the index number, I was too busy trying to get the dog out of their way at the time.”

“Shame you didn’t get yourself out of the way while you were at it!”

“Nah, if I hadda done, they would have just backed up and had taken another run at me, Ray. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was a witness wasn’t I and they obviously didn’t want any of those left around.”

“The bastards should be up for attempted murder when they catch ‘em, Bodie, they left you for dead, mate!”

“Oh don’t take on, Ray, I’m still in the land of the living thanks to you lot. Just one thing though and I’d be the last one to complain of course, but what took you so long to arrive?”

“Well we couldn’t bloody find you and wasn’t for lack of looking, Bodie, Ray was nearly having kittens when I turned up!”

“But … look I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but the sun was directly overhead when James found me but it was right over by the oak copse when the ambulance eventually rolled up …”

“Bodie, James didn’t see you, love. He covered the land but he never found you.”

“Yes he bloody did! I saw him with my own eyes, even called out to him!”

“You sure you weren’t just seeing what you wanted to see, Bodie, you had just taken quite a knock after all.”

“I know what I saw, Murphy, he was riding Fern and wearing bleached cut-off jeans and an Arsenal shirt!”

Rays face suddenly clouded over like the starting of a summer storm. I let the matter lie however. I was alive to tell the tale and faced the ribbing of a lifetime when I finally returned to face my old friends with a cast on my leg. Between us, we had a pub to run and laying about in bed all day certainly wasn’t going to help us run it.

~~~ oOo~~~

A huge cheer went up as Bodie finally hobbled into the pub. It had always been a merciless business, the teasing of an injured agent which we both understood perfectly. Relief was always preferable to regret and Bodie would accept the relentless tormenting as his due.

I longed to join in with the celebrations, but I had an unwanted task to complete before I could enjoy the party. As I left Bodie to his fate, I spied Rolf from the corner of my eye flamboyantly peeling Bodie a grape.

I pulled up on the Henrys driveway in a hail of gravel, alarming Lucinda and Patrick who were taking afternoon tea on their patio.

“I’m sorry, Lucinda, Henry but I need to see James and I need to see him _now_. Stick around please, you both need to hear this!”

Shocked bloodless, Lucinda hurried off to get her son, whilst Patrick started to make noises about my rude and abrupt entrance. Finally a sheepish James Henry was stood before me and I had to fight an overwhelming urge to punch him.

“Look, Mr Doyle, just what’s this all about, you bursting in here like this, I’m sure James hasn’t done anything wrong …”

“And I’m sure James can answer for himself, Patrick, now tell me you stupid boy, what the _hell_ you were thinking of yesterday!”

“Mr Doyle, please! This is our home you can’t come here shouting at our son like this!”

“Your _son_ , Lucinda, could have let a man die yesterday and it was only due to a small miracle that he didn’t!”

“James? What’s this all about, what does Mr Doyle mean?”

“Oh he didn’t tell you anything about it then? Well please let me explain! My partner went missing yesterday after being severely injured and young James here gallantly agreed to help look for him. Trouble is when he found him he didn’t actually tell anyone, _did_ you James, he just bloody left him there!”

“I never saw him, I didn’t find him honestly, I didn’t!”

“Don’t _bullshit_ me James! He was laying there in the ditch for anyone to see, of course you saw him!”

“I … I just thought it was a pile of old rubbish, I didn’t realise it was a body there!”

“You were on a man hunt James that _you’d_ volunteered for, the least you could have done was check it out and since when does a ‘pile of rubbish’ manage to call out to you? Bodie even described what you were wearing so don’t give me that bollocks about not seeing him, you know damn well it was him in that ditch!”

James flushed like a beacon making me even angrier.

“I ought to have the police on you for this and I would if I didn’t think you’d be a completely waste of their time!”

James had turned the tears on again but his parents just stared at him suddenly disgusted with their offspring.

“Get yourself indoors, James, _now_! We’ll deal with you in a minute,” Lucinda growled fiercely.

Finally cooling down, I turned to the Henrys slightly more apologetically.

“Look, Patrick, Lucinda, I have no argument with you, you’re both good people but I’m telling you if I see your boy anywhere near my pub again, I’ll set the dog on him!”

“I’ve got no idea what to say to you, Mr Doyle, I’m just so sorry! How is Mr Bodie, is he _alright_?”

“He was mown down by a car, Patrick and had a bone sticking out of his leg when we found him, but he’s out of hospital and he’s gonna be okay. It was ages after James returned that he was found however, so it could have been _so_ much worse! I know James doesn’t like Bodie but he just _has_ to be made aware how serious all this is!”

“Oh he will be _believe_ you me! Look I beg of you not to involve the police, James _will_ be dealt with and he won’t be bothering you at the pub again, I promise you that.”

“Well I’ve said my piece, Lucinda, and I’m sorry to have ruined your afternoon, but that boy of yours needs sorting out!”

“We know Mr Doyle. James has got away with far too much for far too long, please leave it us now, and our apologies and best wishes to Mr Bodie.”

I left the Henrys not envying any of them the ensuing atmosphere in their house, returning to somewhere I knew I’d receive a much better welcome.

I stared around the heaving bar in amusement. Anson and Macklin were unwittingly flanked by two ancient ghosts. Murphy and Sal were arguing over who could write the filthiest comment on Bodies cast and Alain was emerging from the kitchen a carrying huge silver domed platter. When he lifted the lid, I did a double take. Alain normally an artisan of his trade, never turned out anything that didn’t look as superb as it tasted and his sausage and mash explosion certainly didn’t match his normal artistic creations.

“Um, I’m sure it’ll taste delicious, but it’s no oil painting, is it Al?”

“Ahhh, Doyle you stupid Anglais! This is not for likes of you, this if for 'le héros' of course!

Elvis had no airs and graces about how his rewards were presented, and wolfed down the sausages like a starving gannet. We showed the Londoners that us country bumpkins knew how to throw a party and there were many sore heads the next morning.

Four good things happened in August. Firstly, to the vast relief of everyone who came into contact with him, Bodies cast was removed. Elsewhere, four men from Southampton were tried and convicted for a spate of Post Office robberies stretching from Worthing to Weymouth. Lucinda Henry approved my application to accompany the riders in the Fordingbridge section of the Autumn pony drift and last but not least, her son passed his A levels.

Unfortunately, James Henry didn’t get the grades he needed to attend Southampton University. He was also refused at Portsmouth, Brighton and Poole. A clearing house eventually found a place for him which his parents urged him to accept and it was no great shame when James Henry finally left for Hull.

~~~oOo~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. The Pony Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With many thanks to Mizelle

 

All the bust ups, chases and firefights and I’d ever encountered couldn’t remotely prepare me for the New Forest Pony Drift.

What I’d expected to be a quietly pleasant time spent in the countryside was more akin to Armageddon on horseback and I was eternally glad that my feet were remaining firmly on the ground.

Ray _had_ suggested on more than one occasion that there would certainly be room for slower, more sedate riders and their mounts, but I was perfectly happy to sit in the wings as part of the back-up team, leaving Finbar safely at home.

Alain and Holly who weren’t particularly interested in the event were happily left to man the pub, whilst Rolf, Liam, Julie and myself amassed the equipment and ingredients required to feed a small army. Liam and Julie were stationed half way round the route with a hundred oranges between them, fifty wrapped sandwiches and a trough for the animals. Rolf and I positioned ourselves at the finish near the pound where we set up the tea urn and camping stoves.

For several hours, all we could hear were the distant calls and frantic whinnies as the herd was gradually urged towards us. When the first of the animals appeared like a mirage in the distance, it was suddenly like the charge of the light brigade, as noisy as war and just as chaotic. I could only admire however, the skill and finesse of the valiant riders as they expertly drove the heaving mass of animals into the waiting stockyards.

I tried to spot Ray amongst the melee and was finally rewarded when I spied a glimpse of his green checked jacket and the white flash of Ferns nose. The enclosed animals calmed somewhat after their rather long run and their owners moved in to check them, brand the new foals, replace broken collars and make some sales. Finally free after his morning toils, Ray bounced over, a huge smile nearly splitting his face.

“Oh, Bodie that was bloody fantastic, there’s absolutely nothing like it, you’ve no idea what you missed!”

All in all, I had a pretty good idea as Ray looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards though it somehow seemed impertinent to curb his overwhelming enthusiasm.

“God I just can’t _wait_ to do it all again tomorrow, honestly Bodie, it was just pure magic out there! I _did_ come a cropper just the once, by the brook, pony went one way and I went the other but no harm done!”

“What do you mean you ‘came a cropper’, you actually fell off, you mad idiot?”

Patrick Henry rode up also smiling broadly.

“Oh it was only a little tumble, Mr Bodie, occupational hazard out on the drift I’m afraid, but Ray rode very well and was an asset to us. Any chance of a cup of tea?”

The next two days followed in much the same vein with the ponies and riders looking gradually more tired and dirty. Ray had two more falls as did many others and I swore that if he ever decided to take up this crazy venture again, I’d lock him in the cellar for the month.

Finally, it was all at an end. Exhausted drinkers descended on the pub like flies and I left the staff to man the pumps whilst I tried to put the car and trailer in some sort of order. Ray was still bouncing around like a flea, totally in his element around those that had also experienced the excitement of the pony drive. I let him have his moment knowing full well that he’d soon be too exhausted to move never lone aid in the clear up, steadfastly refusing his offers to help.

“For heaven’s sake man, go inside and get yourself a beer whilst you can still stand up, and watch out for those crates …”

You couldn’t make it up. My barking mad partner had survived three days of falling off horses going at nigh on thirty miles an hour and now the silly sod had knocked himself out after tripping over a box of oranges.

~~~oOo~~~

When I eventually came to, I had a walloping headache, the sort that makes you feel like you’ve been hit by a steam roller and I wasn’t altogether sure where I was.

I looked around at the slightly amused faces who’d all decided at that very moment to stare at me. Completely unperturbed by their obvious rudeness, I grumpily enquired as to our position.

“Where the hell am I? We are we all, in fact?”

The eyes of the only female aboard were suddenly downcast, her cheeks flaming like carriage lamps. She was buxom as she was broad but shoddily dressed and I considered her of no more importance.

I glanced around at my other companions though neither seemed further inclined to show interest in me. About to enquire about the health of their ears, my query was suddenly answered as the coach shuddered to a halt with the cry of ‘Normansland!” from the driver.

Why the fool had stopped here was anyone’s guess as it was obvious the insufficient hackney coach was full to capacity and I had no intention of shuffling along to admit more. To my great surprise however, we were actually losing one of our number as the driver jumped down and roughly pulled the woman from her seat in one fell swoop. She bravely tried to argue her case, but it was made quite apparent that unless she could produce more pennies, her journey was at an end. 

I shook my head, somewhat disgusted. That a woman had the sheer gall to travel alone was bad enough, but one who didn’t possess the forethought to come accompanied by the requisite fare was nothing more than shameless. Annoyed that she had further delayed our seemingly endless journey, I silently caught the eyes of my travelling companions. My neighbour seemed to mirror my thoughts, his moustache bristling animatedly. The man diagonally opposite glared at me meaningfully and for the first time, I paid him more than scant attention. His midnight blue eyes held mine as if in challenge and it was only the insistent headache that forced me to look away.

The coach rumbled on until I was lulled into further sleep. The resulting jolt of another stop woke me suddenly and it was all I could do not to be violently sick. The call of ‘Worlds End’ meant nothing to me but little did as I found myself sweating and shaking and forcing myself not to emit all over my compatriots.

The driver jumped down and opened the doors with far more grace than he’d had for the girl he’d turned out. It would seem this was the final destination of the owner of glaring blue eyes. I’d have been more disappointed had I felt less green about the gills so when he grabbed my hand and pulled me after him, I put up no protest until we were back on solid ground.

“What the hell did you do that for, you complete Neanderthal, that was my coach and I’m pretty sure not my stop!”

“You looked just about ready to pass out and you might surely have ended your travels at _Land’s_ End were that to be the case.”

“And _who_ pray, Sir, were you to decide that Land’s End was not my intended destination?”

“Well actually the coach terminates at Bournemouth, but you looked as rough as a bag of horseshoe nails and further travel certainly wouldn’t have aided your constitution any.”

I spluttered at the man’s effrontery.

“I just cannot _believe_ you had the audacity to pull a sleeping man from his carriage and forcibly drag him away from his lawful business!”

“Bit too late to worry about it now, Sunshine, the coach has long gone, but they’ll be another along tomorrow. If you’re fit and well enough to ride it then go with my blessing.”

“Oh and who the hell do you think will pay for _that_ journey?”

“Well I’m sure I don’t know, who paid for the first?”

“Well my boss did of course, er… Shamus, Shamus something or other…”

“Which tells me all I need to know. If you can’t remember the name of your employer then you’re surely unfit for traversing such terrain. Do you actually _remember_ your destination?”

“Um, For…Ford… Fordingbridge, yes that’s it, Fordingbridge!”

“Very well remembered, Sire! I’m sure that on the morrow you’ll be full-witted enough to make it to a place you’ll be glad to hear is but a mere spit away!”

“And in the meantime? Where the hell are we now?”

“Now, Sir, we’re at World’s End which is _my_ place of business.”

“Oh yes and what aside from garrulous kidnap, what _is_ your line of business?”

“Me? I’m a mere agent, Sir, providing wanted produce for wanting people. What pray tell is _your_ business?”

“Me? Um… um, I’m an agent too I suppose. I’m a builder by trade not that it’s any of _your_ business of course, but I’ve been sent down from London on the whim of my boss, Shamus O’ Leary. He’s heard of a land sale and wishes the benefit of my considerable opinion before he puts in his bids.”

“This O’ Leary must think a lot of you then.”

“And well he should, I’m the best man he’s got!”

“Well good for you! Is there much call for property about the area of Fordingbridge?”

“O’Leary must think so. Building plots are far cheaper than those found in London and they’ll always be call for housing on any route to Southampton and the docks.”

“I suppose there would be. I’m becoming somewhat familiar with the Southampton waters myself.”

“Really? In what capacity?”

“Well not that it’s any of _your_ business, but export is my main concern. There’s far cheaper passage to be found along the south coast than there is out of London.”

“What is it you trade?”

“Nosy little so and so, aren’t you?”

“Well you started it, but if it it’s some kind of state secret …”

“No, no secret about it, in fact I’d happily sing the virtues of our liquid gold from the very roof tops if it didn’t sell enough already.”

I was suddenly found wondering if I’d landed myself with some sort of imbecile, but he was just getting into his stride and it seemed rather foolish to stop him.

“Beer, man! Ale if you would, nectar of the gods and staple of the common man. An elixir for all ills and a panacea for all predicaments!”

I’d never quite heard beer described thus, but there was no doubting the enthusiasm of the man and the cut of his boots and the fit of his greatcoat suggested he was doing alright by himself.

“You’re a beer seller then?”

“I prefer the term ‘provisioner’, but yes, in essence, selling beer is indeed what I do.”

“And you ship this beer abroad, I take it?”

“Oh yes, Sir to India and beyond!”

“Which explains nothing to me of why we’re currently in the middle of a wood, plodding to God knows where for God knows what purpose!”

“Ah forgive me, Sir for forgetting your weakness, but we’ll be there in a jiffy! Just a few more turns in the road and you’ll be sat in the comfort provided by of one of my favoured customers. Not all of our wares travel afar you see, some are enjoyed closer to home. A swift pint of Hopgood’s Harvest Gold should soon put you to rights!”

I bridled my growing temper somewhat. If this man _was_ some sort of lunatic, I’d do well not to cross him and the thought of sitting in _any_ sort of comfort was becoming ever more attractive. To my complete surprise however, sure enough, after a few more turns, we were presented by a perfectly acceptable alehouse, sitting pretty as a picture in its own secluded plot.

 

“Behold, Sire! I give you, ‘The House At Worlds End’, one of the finest inns in the county!”

Though I certainly hadn’t planned to spend the better part of the day propping the walls of a public house, there seemed no option in this Godforsaken place but to test out my companion’s recommendation. What O’Leary would make of my actions was only too easy to guess, but footsore and thirsty, I allowed myself to be lead to towards the pretty pub garden.

“One thing before we enter, Sir and an important one too, how should I address you?”

“What matter is it? It hasn’t concerned you up to this point!”

“But surely you have a name, Sir? I can’t forever refer to ourselves as you ‘the sickly traveller’ and myself ‘his handsome saviour’, I’m sure we’d soon become fed up with each other were that be the case!”

I refrained from saying that I was long passed that point and fearing I was now stuck with this dullard, tried to make the best of a bad lot.

“People call me Doyle.”

“Is that a surname? Don’t you have others?”

“It _is_ and I do, but I prefer to be known as ‘Doyle’ and refuse to answer to anything but!”

“Oh, but you’re an odd one! Is your forename so shameful? Understandable quite, if you’re a Norbert or Horace I suppose, though you look like neither. I know, let us make a game of it! If I can correctly guess your first name, then you, Mister Doyle, shall allow me to use it!”

“Oh do let’s _not!_  Look if it it’s that blessed important to you, my forename is Raymond if that satisfies your inane curiosity any!”

“Oh, but Raymond’s a beautiful name! Borrowed from the French ‘Raimund’ and originating from the German ‘Raginmund’, I believe. Why would you be ashamed of such a glorious title?”

“I never said I was ashamed of it, I said I didn’t use it! In my social circle, it doesn’t pay to become too familiar with your fellow citizens.”

“Ah …”

“Ah what? What the hell are you going on about now, you dim-witted creature?”

“‘Ah’ as in there speaks the voice of subservience!”

“I’m subservient to no one, Sir!”

“What even to your Mr O’Leary? I dare say even in your depleted state, your main concern is what the devil he’ll have to say about the fact you were taken poorly aboard the coach thus missing your vital viewing?”

I couldn’t disagree. Though I entirely blamed current circumstances on my unhinged companion, the thought of trudging around some dreadful plot land with other such bored agents turned my stomach. My headache showed no signs of abating and like it or not the carriage was indeed, long gone. I had to face it, I was here for the night and supposed the least I could do was attempt sociability.

“How pray tell, Sir would you like to be addressed?”

“Why so kind of you to enquire, Mister Doyle! My full name is William Andrew Phillip Bodie, though I’m ‘William’ to my accountants and ‘Will’ to my friends. You, Raymond, may call me ‘Will’.”

I was not so far gone that the overtures of friendship were welcomed, but being a stranger in a strange land, was now somewhat dependent on Mister William Andrew Phillip Bodie and his knowledge of the local area. It could have been worse. Though obviously a simpleton, he was easy to please and had a look about him I rather favoured. Tall and rather obviously strong, he filled his clothes like a babe in swaddling. The hair that capped his head was black and shiny as a raven’s wing but it was his eyes that could slay a man. As blue as the oceans his precious beer traversed, his eyes spoke of emotions his lips failed to deliver. What I could do with such a man given a locked bedchamber and a decent bourbon was a pleasuring thought. One for my slumbers perhaps as now we’d made acquaintance, were obviously headed for the dubious delights of the bar of 'The House at Worlds End'.

“Mister Bodie, Sire, such a pleasure!”

“Oh hush, Elspeth and call me ‘Will’, woman, as I’ve advised you to a hundred times or more!”

“I’m sorry, _Will_ and thank you for your patronage, Sir! The books are all in order for your consideration, but first you must be furnished with ale. Your usual, if you’d please?”

“Indeed, Elspeth that would be most acceptable, but first I have a favour to beg of you.”

“Sir?”

“Have you further lodgings available? I happened upon this traveller who was taken ill whilst aboard my coach. He needs little more than a comfy bed, a hearty meal and a few pints of Harvest Gold to put him right.”

“Oh but, Sir! The food and ale are easily enough provided, but with the pony drift going on, our rooms are but taken! I could put someone out of course, though some of the riders have saved all year for such lodgings!”

“Worry yourself no more, woman, does the chaise longue still occupy my reserved quarters?”

“But of course, Sir!”

“’Tis settled then. I’ll repose on the chaise whilst the weary stranger takes my bed. You can call him Doyle and feed him well. I’ll pay his excesses so don’t scrimp on his needs.”

“As you say, Sir!”

It would seem a deal had been done and without want nor expectation, I had a bed for the night.

~~~oOo~~~

I tried hard to hide my darkest fears from the lovesome stranger.

It was hardly suitable weather for swooning away in coaches however inferior their comforts might be. Doyle didn’t look like a weakling, in fact just the opposite though his wiry frame may have suggested different to those not intimately familiar with the male physique. Slender as a reed, he held a strength which made me wary of picking too many fights with him. I‘d tried through good humoured bonhomie to jolly him along but it was obvious he was quite weary of my efforts. If at least I could get him to eat one of Elspeth’s splendid meals and perhaps see that he managed a decent night’s sleep thereafter, hopefully he might recover enough to go about his business unaided.

Doyle looked despondent when presented with his platter of veal pie and pickles, but I was starting to realise it was probably his normal façade. He obviously hadn’t reckoned on my breweries finest however, which certainly loosened his tongue to almost devastating effect.

“Will, in God’s name, who’s that?”

I glanced over to see Henry drifting by, gently minding his own business.

“Oh that’s just Henry. He’s hung about in here for years.”

“Is he in fancy dress or something? Surely someone should tell him that his attire is at least a century out of date?”

“You could _try_ telling him if you have the notion to, Sir, but the time it would take for him to bemoan your workman’s clothing would surely be more than you could afford! Be not so quick to judge on mere appearances, Doyle.”

I don’t really think Doyle took in my words of wisdom, such was the effect of Harvest Gold upon him, for his next victim was my own dear Elspeth.

“Alewife! More beer if you please, the last was rather favourable and against expectations, the fodder quite fine!”

Elspeth glowed like a beetroot and other patrons were staring to show their discomfort towards the loud-mouthed stranger I’d admitted to their ranks. With a hasty jerk, I tugged Doyle towards a booth intent on putting his drunken opinions to rights.

“By God, Doyle, terming Elspeth as an ‘alewife’ is akin to comparing an angel to a vagabond!”

“Oh for pities sake, man you’re certainly a sensitive lot down here in the back of beyond! What the hell _should_ I term her as?”

“Well, ‘tis true, in the purest sense, she _is_ an alewife, but not in the derogatory way you implied, a woman who draws men with ale and favours, Elspeth is _far_ more than that!”

Doyle didn’t look particularly interested, supping his new tipple with the half closed eyes of the truly inebriated, but I strove to make my point.

“Elspeth both met and fell in love with her intended in the early years of the Crimea. As a qualified military nurse she probably had no end of romantic overtures, but it was Richard Anson she gave her heart to. So decorated was the man, he had no real need to attend the Battle of Balaclava, but a man of honour can rarely be swayed from his duty. He never returned from the skirmish and she never received note of his falling. He’d run this place during times of peace and she’s sworn since to keep it going until his return. She couldn’t _quite_ keep up with Richard’s extensive brewery and gin still, so as an old friend and comrade of his, I was more than happy to help supply her bar.”

“You were a soldier?”

“I was, Sir and well I loved the life till the very stuffing was ripped from my career by a sword bayonet.”

“My God, how did you survive that, man?”

“Well I wasn’t charged, fortunately, just speared in the back by a man who must have been as scared as myself. Anson found me and gallantly carried me back to the field hospital where his beloved Elspeth tended my needs. I raged with fever for nearly a week and the damage done put paid to my soldiering for ever, but I survived to tell the tale and now embrace life with as much fervour as ever I did before. I took to a new life on Civvie Street well enough and now see each new day as a blessing.”

“Well that’s all fine and dandy, Sir, how I heartily congratulate your good fortune!”

“Such sarcasm, Sir! Oh, Doyle, how I pity your bleak outlook on life! What bad hand was dealt that causes you to suffer such a gloomy disposition I wonder?”

“We’re born we work and then we die. Pray tell me, Sir, what’s so celebratory about that?”

“Do you not enjoy your work, Doyle?”

“Hardly. I too was robbed of my chosen profession through attack on my person, pistol shot no less and within my own lodgings at that!”

“Good heavens, Sir what a thing! What earthly position did you hold to prompt such vile treatment? Were you some sort of criminal, perhaps?”

“Quite the opposite. I was in fact, one of the last Bow Street Runners.”

“My goodness, what a terribly exciting life, Mr Doyle!”

“Well not any more. Whilst the Metropolitan Police did at least pay for the surgery that saved my life, they were unprepared to further employ a man damaged by gun shot when they came into force. Fortunately, my assailant’s aim was so poor as to miss my heart and head, otherwise my miserable existence may well have been extinguished along with my career.”

“Well thank goodness for heavenly mercies, but surely construction is a rather unsuitable alternative post for one of compromised health?”

“Whilst I completely concur, desperate and destitute once finally recovered, I was forced to go cap in hand to the family business. I needed work even if it was of a type I had shunned all my life.”

“Surely your family wouldn’t have wished upon you a job which might have been detrimental to your healthfulness?”

“Ah, but I was never a family favourite, Sir. Rejecting the building trade as a youth fair broke my father’s heart, whilst joining the Runners fair broke my mothers. Whilst she was happy enough to live in England with the work it could bring, she could never swear allegiance to the crown and the Runners were certainly nearer to the crown than she wished to be. It was stated in no uncertain terms, that I was to consider it a true blessing they offered me employment at all and if my new foreman, Shamus O’ Leary ever finds me lacking, he should dispense of my services immediately.”

“Oh you poor chap, that sounds like a rum deal to me. Is there really no other work you could do?”

“Now I’ve a few savings amassed, the field _is_ more open, the trouble is having the time and energy to seek positions. O’Leary never tires of getting his pound of flesh from me. Even in quiet times he keeps me busy whilst his paid lackeys happily lounge. When I said I was the best man he had, it was not quite the achievement that I fear I implied. I feel my life is little more than a meaningless sham for the best part.”

 

Doyle’s sad story was suddenly interrupted by a small boy offering a brace of brandies on a tiny pewter plate.

“Ah, Seth, so kind of you my young friend! To whom do we owe this small pleasure?”

“Curtesy of Miss Elspeth, Sire to wish you a pleasant night.”

As I dismissed Seth with a shiny penny in his pocket, I laughed softly, understanding the woman’s intentions completely.

“Something amusing, Sir?”

The ‘alewife’ is hinting it’s past time we retire. Elspeth wouldn’t dream of sending me to my quarters without the requisite brandy, so I fear she’s tired of our company! Whilst I admit few were more surprised than I at your intemperance after tasting our beer, perhaps the laudanum I requested she add to your first draught was somewhat excessive.”

“You drugged me, you idiot?”

“I _treated_ you, Doyle. You feel better now, surely?”

“Actually, I do! I rarely remember a time when I felt so relaxed, such are the normal pressures on my time.”

We were about to abed when a small commotion caught Doyle’s eye. I looked up to see pot man Amos escort a buxom young woman into the bar. She soon recovered her animated composure when the house presented her with a brandy of her own.

“Will, that’s surely the heathen that was thrown from the coach?”

“Do you mean the poor young lady found short of her fare, Doyle?”

“I didn’t see you offering to supplement her shortfall!”

“I said I was a working man, Sir, not a rich one!”

I missed his reply as the bar was suddenly and loudly flooded with the mass of riders from the pony drive. I saw a slight look of apprehension cross Elspeth’s face and wondered if I should abandon my companion to take a place behind the bar. To my relief however, the newly arrived buxom wench assessed the scene, grabbed a pinny and was behind the jump before I could whistle. Obviously no stranger to serving, she was soon catering to the crowd as though one born to it. Knowing the place had again worked its magic on another poor soul, I quietly lead Doyle away to my bedchamber.

Dreading the words that might end our acquaintance, I nevertheless started to speak.

“What think you of love, Doyle? Does it not colour your opinion of how good life might be?”

“Women you mean? Surely many have seen me as a meal ticket to use and abuse as the bitches see fit. I see no love there, master Will, just a further life of misery and sadness.”

“I asked you not of women, Raymond, but of love.”

“Ah and there leads the saddest path of all …”

“You yearn for love?”

“Sir the love I crave would surely repel you …”

“Be not so quick to form your opinions, Sir!”

“Will, you know not of what you speak.”

“But supposing, I do, Ray, supposing I do…”

~~~oOo~~~

It seemed impudent to remind my host that he’d volunteered to repose on the chaise as he threw his full length down onto the bed beside me. I had to admire the tenacity of the man. I’d behaved appallingly all afternoon, but he’d still taken care of me and didn’t seem shaken by my half hinted confession. With sudden urgency, William Andrew Phillip Bodie threw me a look which snatched my very breath away. Caught by the question in his midnight eyes, I nodded almost imperceptivity before his lips searched for mine. As I reached to embrace him, his gentle murmurings became more insistent.

“Ray for Christ’s sake, you pillock! I’ll chuck a bloody bucket of water over you in a minute!”

Confused, I falteringly opened my eyes to find myself outside once again. A vast number of oranges seemed to be inexplicably scattered around my feet.

“Oh thank God for that, you flipping idiot, I was just about to call out the damn ambulance!”

“Master Bodie?”

“No need to be sarky, Ray, just tell me what you can see.”

“Um, oranges.”

“Good, how many?”

“Erm … loads of ‘em!”

“Do you need to go to hospital?”

“Er … I dunno, how long was I out?”

“Nearly two whole minutes! You haven’t got any major bumps though it’s straight to the surgery with you tomorrow if you feel the slightest bit sick and no more beer for the rest of the day!”

“Well that’s just great, that is …”

“Ray if you can’t be trusted not to fall over your own feet then you surely shouldn’t be let loose on your own in public!”

I smiled at the relief in Bodies mock reprimand.

“I had a smashing dream, Bodie …”

“Did you, you lazy arsed git! Well let’s just get this pub run, Sunshine and then later tonight you can tell me the whole story.”

I kicked a stray orange, smiling to myself, knowing that once we’d closed doors, I’d pick up the story from where it had ended. Bodie hoisted me to my shaky feet and my silly bump was soon forgotten amongst the aches and moans of a horde of hot and thirsty riders. As I took my place behind the bar, Elspeths form appeared beside me. She didn’t speak but I heard her message as clear as day.

“Call me ‘alewife’ again, Master Doyle and I’ll have your hide!”

I grinned at her broadly and she gave me a serene smile in return. I just about managed to spy a brief wink from Millicent before turning to draw the next pint.

~~~oOo~~~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’ve never written anything remotely historical before, I kept the year of Doyle’s dream deliberately vague, though you may assume it was set somewhere around 1860. Hopefully this time frame would incorporate the Bow Street Runners and The Crimean War as part of the lad’s histories. This of course was before the invention of the motor car so horses were still pulling carriages, though the flyleaf illustration is inaccurate, not being a hackney coach at all but actually the Royal Mail stagecoach. Any other inaccuracies can be blamed on the fact that that it was after all, only a dream.


End file.
